Fighting for Happy Endings
by Irbis
Summary: Everyone wants a happy ending, be it steady couples like Kitty and Piotr, angsty couples like Remy and Anna, or even the random psycopath like Creed. Unfortunately, not everyone can get exactly their heart's desire. ch 12: Mountain Lakes. Happy 2020 - I'm back in business! ;)
1. Plans - Part I

Disclaimer: I don't own any characters except my characters. Which are quite a few this time around. Let's try it this way: I don't own any Marvel characters that happen to show up in the upcoming chapters and which I'm sure you'll recognise without any need to name long lists. I also do not own Jenny, which Dizi created a few years back and which is a fabulous character. I strongly recommend you read her adventures with Wolverine and the X-Men.

* * *

_My Irbis Saga is divided into two cycles: the Irbis Cycle proper, and the 'Taming of the Hearts' Cycle. This is the fifth story in the second cycle._

_You do not have to read the first cycle, just be aware that Creed met his match (sort of) in this Irbis OC. In the second cycle there are several plot points of the first cycle that are mentioned but they don't really require going back to read it (if you disagree, let me know). __Do note that this cycle is set in an AU that diverges from the canon comic books shortly after M-Day. _

_Be aware that the stories in this cycle segue one into the next and, even though each story has its own arc (with a few subplots), there is one line that follows all of the stories. If you wish to start this cycle at the beginning, keep in mind the list below_

_**Previous stories in the 2**__**nd**__** cycle and how essential they are to know before you read the current story:**_

_**1\. The Proposal**__ – focus on Remy and Rogue. Not essential to the current story (but the last chapter explains a lot)._

_**2\. The Ressurrection**__ – focus on Creed, Irbis and Lilia. This is an __**essential**__ read as it explains the basic premise to the whole cycle._

_**3\. Double-Dealings**__ – focus on Creed, Irbis and Lilia, but also on Mystique. It sets the stage for the current 4__th__ tale but it isn't essential._

_**4\. Disasters Come in Threes**__ – focus on Creed, Irbis and Lilia, but also on Rogue and the twins. The current 5__th__ tale is a continuation of this so it is an __**essential**__ read._

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_**Note:** This is my second time working with a bit more of action. The first time was with Jubilee in The Proposal, but there was quite a lot for different characters to do so there actually was action. This time, though, there's a whole lot more of fruitless searching and 'paperworking' and not many lively action scenes. To solve the problem, I decided to weave in two stories to provide some tension before the final show down. Because there will be an action packed showdown, that much I can promise, and there will be three happy endings (though some may be happier than others). _

_Please let me know what you think of the rhythm and whether there is a good balance in-between the three plots fighting for their respective happy endings. Thank you for your continuing support._

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**1\. Plans – Part I**

"Non," Marie said sharply.

Rogue looked away from the desk where she was grading essays in time to see her little girl push her twin brother away from a blue ball. Little Christopher swayed precariously for a few seconds before falling on his diapered behind and looking helplessly at his sister.

"Mine," she told him grouchily.

"Play nice, Marie," Anna told her. "Ya should share yer toys with yer brother."

Christopher looked at her with a helpless pout then started crawling towards her through the grass. Anna frowned. Little Chris had stopped crawling rather early, why was he… Ah, he got to his feet and ran clumsily into her arms, just as Marie embraced her from behind. Laughing, Anna lay down on the blanket over the grass and enjoyed the summer sun. She held both children tightly and closed her eyes.

"Mommie! Mommie! 'ook!"

"What is…" As Anna opened her eyes with a smile, the question froze on her togue. Her baby girl had developed blue skin and straight red hair.

Rogue sat up and nearly smashed her face against a reclined plane seat. Next to her, two women wearing head scarves were snoring softly. What time was it? Outside, the sky was brightly blue but her phone was still set for French time: 5.38 am. What was the time difference between France and Afghanistan? Uh… She was under the impression there was a nine-hour difference between Massachusetts and Afghanistan. Nine or ten…

"Ladies and gentlemen, we will be landing in approximately 20 minutes. It is now 9.10, local time, and we can expect clear skies for the entire day, with temperatures reaching 28º C. As we start our descent, please make sure…"

She'd be out of the plane shortly after 9.30. Rogue looked out the window again, this time taking in the mountainous terrain below her. Had Laura read her texts? She hoped so. She was not looking forward to looking for the young clone throughout those mountains. Even though she wanted to check any messages, she forced herself to stay put.

She realised she was once more toying with the charm Remy had offered her three months earlier. She looked at the entwined silver hearts and smiled sadly as she read the inscriptions on the rims: Marie, Christopher. She kissed the charm and held it tight inside her hand while her mind returned to the same path as before she'd fallen asleep: killing Mystique.

Back in the Academy, all she could think of was that she'd kill the woman. Just kill! But it was one of those reactions one has. How many times had she threatened to murder Remy, right? Through her pain, she had still asked herself how a woman who'd been like a mother to her could do something this evil? Sure, she had tried to kill Rogue before, had… but she'd also insisted over and over that no matter how twisted her actions were, she would always want nothing but the best for Rogue. Back in the Academy, she had still asked herself how could her 'fostermother' have done such a thing. Fostermother. She'd still thought of her as family.

During the flight from the States to France, she'd stopped thinking of her as estranged family. She was now a dangerous villain who meant nothing to Rogue.

She had started imagining the confrontation then, but often the clash between the two ended in the realm of fantasy. Too often, Rogue saw herself simply punching her non-stop. Scenario after scenario, it always ended up in a relentless beating, with Mystique barely making a move to stop the onslaught. Well, except in the scenarios where the snake abandoned the babies to save herself.

Now, as the plane swerved softly left to align itself with the runway, that rash anger felt icy and collected. Chop her head off, Creed had said. Chop all of her body into tiny pieces and incinerate them all.

Rogue would need a blade for that, which she didn't have. Unless one counted Laura as a living blade. In that case, she had half a dozen. The ideal would be for Rogue to distract Mystique so that Laura could catch her from behind. Behead her immediately. Of course, if she was going to be a useful distraction, she'd have to get herself in shape. When had she last practised hand-to-hand combat at Mystique's level? The only thing she had going was super-strength, and Mystique knew all too well how to counter-act super-strong opponents.

Skipping ahead the fight itself – that could not be rehearsed – Rogue focused on what to do afterwards. Behead Mystique, then chop her body into pieces. Common sense told her to dismember her quickly and then focus on the torso, so as to reach her main organs. As a skilled shapeshifter, the woman could move them around inside her to avoid deadly hits, but she wouldn't be able to so if she was beheaded and the stabbings were too fast, too numerous.

She could see the slaughter in all its repulsive enormity before her.

She could see the head, those yellow eyes wide and dead, in a pool of blood near the butchered body.

It did not disturb her.

If anything, it was the lack of emotion that unsettled her. Neither a sense of victory or fierce satisfaction. Not even a shadow of hard-earned peace, savage fulfillment or appeased anger. In her mind, the chopped up pieces of the woman she had once loved like a mother ellicited no emotion whatsoever.

Was this what killing felt like for Laura? A big unconsequential nothing?

The moment the plane touched down and desaccelarated to parking speed, though, she got her phone discretely out. On the loudspeakers, the passengers were told to keep their seatbelts on and to refrain from using cell phones while the seatbelt sign was on.

The moment it got reception, Rogue frowned. 295 messages? She opened the text app and realised 294 of those messages were from Creed. What the hell? She read Laura's first, obviously:

_will be there. call me when you are off the plane._

Great. They could organise a plan and get tickets for another plane immediately. She then checked Creed's and took a deep breath. It was a list of Mystique's old haunts, at least all he knew of, as he mentioned in the first few messages. Every place had a comment and the ones he thought were particularly likely were in Caps Locks. Sometimes the place name showed up alone in a message, followed by all the details he was aware of. It was never ending!

Rogue skimmed through the messages and stopped midway.

_once theyre ready to accept Raven as their new mom_

_maybe in 1 - 2 years_

Once they're ready to accept… Rogue quickly rubbed the painful tear away. She had to harden herself because the killer was right: Mystique would try to make her babies forget about their Mommy. She would try and… She would fail. Rogue would find her long before her babies could forget her. One or two years, Creed had said. Did he think she'd let that treacherous viper wander freely that long? No. Not even two months! Two weeks! No.

_we need a world map_, she texted Laura. _asap_

* * *

Laura drove Rogue to a house about half an hour from the airport. Both were wearing headscarves and loose coats to hide their bodies and call less attention to themselves in the busy morning roads of the city.

"We will be able to talk and organise our next steps," Laura had told Rogue.

The woman, however, had been enraged with the idea. Her plan had been to catch another plane back to Europe immediately – which told Laura she was not thinking clearly. Rogue could have asked Laura to board the first plane out of Afghanistan. It would have been more sensible as it would have saved time and Rogue could have started her investigations immediately. Now, however, their options were either to get on a morning plane that would take over twenty hours to reach Madrid – to where Rogue insisted they must return – or to wait until next morning and board the 8.30 plane, which would get there in only fourteen hours.

Rogue had wanted to board the 20+ hour flight; Laura had refused.

"We cannot discuss our next steps in public and you will be useless if you do not get some rest and focus."

Unable to make the woman see reason and unwilling to start a fight in the airport, Laura had turned her back on her and had returned to her rental car. Rogue had eventually joined her, but she was furious. It was ok. She had 23 hours to overcome the fury and focus her mind.

Laura drove out of the city and through the surrounding fields, driving past two small farming villages before stopping by the house she had rented. Being a foreigner who spoke the language fluently was useful, but it was the money she used to rent the house above its normal price that had got her female condition overlooked. That and the fact she had presented herself as a soldier. Sometimes, she had to show her deadly skills if she wanted to be respected, but the money had been enough this time.

It was a small traditional mud house, describable as a box and possessing a single window next to the door. The window had no glass, only a crooked shutter that wouldn't shut. Inside, there was an oven and a hearth to the right, next to what could have been called a counter under which two dirty yellow jugs of water would keep their needs covered until next morning. On the left, there was an old darkened rug that had once bore a blue pattern amidst dark red. It served as bedding. Laura went inside only to get rid of her coat and headscarf and bring out a box with bolani, a type of flat bread with a vegetarian filling. Later, she'd buy some mantu, dumplings of minced meat, from a nearby family. For now, though, the bread would suffice.

"Sit here," she told Rogue, choosing a spot that was in the shadow thanks to the tall mud walls surrounding the house. The surrounding wall was actually the key feature that had made Laura choose it for their safe house. "Eat something to recover your strength and tell me all the details."

Her account of the events was sometimes muddled by outbursts of anger that worried Laura. She often also skipped ahead to what she wanted to do instead of presenting a strictly chronological report. She was too emotional.

It was obvious to Laura that even if she had already been in Madrid when the videos of the children's delivery to Mystique were discovered, it had still been too late. Mystique was experienced and intelligent, and she had had plenty of time to prepare the whole operation. Either they had caught up with the delivery sooner, or running after the runaway mutant was out of the picture. The only thing left was really to understand the logic guiding her plan and start what must forcibly be a long, slow search. To go on such a search blindly, though, would greatly diminish their chances of finding the missing children.

"Is it known why Mystique targeted the twins," Laura asked once Rogue had explained how she'd sneaked away from the other X-Men to get on the plane to Afghanistan.

Rogue closed her hands into tight fists.

"It seems Irene had predicted they'd become very powerful," she sneered. "Mystique never could resist power."

Irene Adler, Destiny. Laura had heard of her and her predictions. She was also aware Rogue had been raised by both Mystique and Destiny, so the expression "it seems" left some doubts in Laura's mind. It was also strange that the precognitive had predicted Rogue would have children when everyone had thought it impossible. But perhaps the prediction had been too vague to be recognised as such till the events had unfolded themselves.

"Do you recall that prediction?"

Rogue shook her head.

"Creed heard it some time when they worked together."

Laura frowned. Sabretooth? That one had died quite a few years ago.

"And who did he pass that information to? How and when did you come to hear of it?"

Because it could be a rumour, after all.

"Have ya heard 'bout Tigard, the newest X-Men?" Laura nodded. "He's really Sabretooth. Apparently a clone of his took over his identity and he let 'im run free. When Logan killed 'im, Sabretooth took advantage of it ta remake his life as a new person. Now, he's workin' wi'the X-Men and he was the one who said… he didn't remember the exact words, but apparently Irene predicted that Ah'd never really control mah powers, but that Ah would create a powerful future."

Ok. Then her goal must be to find a place where she could raise them. How she planned to raise the children would determine her destination. Having been raised by her, Rogue would be the best to answer that question. Though Sabretooth-turned-Tigard might have relevant ideas, if they had worked together as often as it was said.

"D'ya get the map I asked ya?" Rogue carried on. "Tigard sent me a list o' places Mystique has used over the years an' that might give us some clues."

Laura frowned and echoed the name, Tigard.

"Sabretooth is dead," Rogue said with surprising heat, having in mind the man had been a long-time enemy. "He's got a baby girl. Anyone as much as dreams Sabretooth is still alive, an' she might as well be dead. That's why he let the clone run free in the first place. He has his heart in the right place _now_, no matter what he did in the past, an' that little girl does not deserve ta be hunted down, ya understand? So… Sabretooth is _dead_ an' this is Tigard we're talkin' 'bout."

Laura nodded again, since Rogue's protectiveness of the man's true identity was explained by her own endangered children. She got a paper pad and the map, then opened them on the ground, a pen in hand to mark the places.

"Salzburg," Rogue grumbled. "She had a house there that she used a few times over the years, somewhere 'tween a church and a train station. He can't recall details. She once mentioned somethin' 'bout havin' growin' up there, so… she might wanna go back, I don't know."

Laura nodded and marked it on the map then jotted it down on the pad.

"A large city is a good place to hide," Laura commented. "But a more rural environment may be more appealing depending on how she plans to raise the children in the long run. Do you think she'd let emotional reasons guide her choice of address on this case?"

Rogue shook her head and mentioned Bregenz, a rural area by a lake that offered quick access to Germany and Switzerland.

For the next hours, they simply added every place Tigard had mentioned to the map of Europe, leaving out other continents for the time being. The places clustered in paths that highlighted the areas of Europe Mystique had favored over the years. Now it was time to decide if she would keep to the places she was already familiar with, or if she'd avoid them altogether.

Using rocks to weigh down the pieces of paper where Laura had taken notes about each place, they started discussing Mystique's plans for the education of the children and how those places could fit which plans.

"If Ah ain't mistaken, Tigard an' Mystique discussed the right way ta raise children the last time they were together, in Paris. But Ah'm not sure exactly what was said."

"Ask him for details," Laura said quietly. "Preferably, her exact words and then his interpretation based on how well he knows her."

Rogue nodded and texted him. In the mean time, Laura looked at the map of Spain. It was known that Mystique had left the airport, and although she might have returned there under a different guise to get on a plane to elsewhere, Laura felt she must have avoided that option. The Spanish authorities had only been warned 33 hours after the children had been handed to Mystique, so it would have posed no danger, but the shapeshifter couldn't have known how much time she'd have beforehand. She could have driven to another Spanish airport or across the border, either to Portugal or France, to get on a plane there. Or on a long-distance train. If she had previously arranged documents for a family of two parents and two children, paying someone to act as the second parent…

It would be very difficult to locate her. Very difficult indeed. In the texts, Tigard had suggested she might pose as a tourist, travelling slowly along the Mediterranean Coast until the children were fully used to her. It was a valid suggestion, but Rogue seemed to find it too obvious.

"Laura."

She looked up from the diagrams she was making on the paper pad, calculating times and variables. There were too many unknowns, and they'd need to hear from Tigard to have a clearer picture of Mystique's plans. Rogue was frowning furiously at her and Laura wished she would get those emotions in check sooner than later.

"Ya promised me once ya'd protect mah children."

She hadn't exactly promised, simply shown herself willing… perhaps even desiring to do so. Despite the inaccuracy, she nodded.

"Ya know there's only one way ta protect 'em from Mystique, don't ya?"

Laura straightened up.

"If her aim is to use their future powers, she will not stop for as long as she is alive," she said quietly.

"The X-Men don't know Ah've come to you fer help."

Hmm. Well, Logan knew, but he often kept information to himself.

"They also don't know that… Ya know they'll do anythin' ta stop me from killin' Mystique."

Laura breathed quietly, thinking it over, then she shook her head.

"You will not kill Mystique."

She hadn't expected the woman to punch her without warning, but Laura still evaded the attack easily. Enraged, Rogue flew blindly against Laura. Almost with a sigh, Laura once more avoided the string of attacks, manipulating their positions until she was able to hit the solar plexus and the brachial plexus in quick sequence, then pin her down on the ground.

"You are too weak, out of shape and emotional to do it."

Laura somersaulted away from the woman before she could react. There were tears running down her still enraged face.

"Beating an experienced fighter to death will take too long," Laura carried on while getting ready for another attack. "And being so emotional about the whole situation, there is a high probability she will win the fight rather than you. Besides, a skilled shapeshifter would be difficult to beat to death even if she were immobilised. Her power not only gives her regenerative abilities, it also allows her to change the position of her organs to minimise the impact to the most sensitive inner organs."

"D'ya think Ah don't know that?"

"Using your draining powers to kill her would be detrimental to your health in unpredictable ways," Laura continued. "And that might further jeopardise the children."

"She has ta be chopped ta pieces!" Rogue shouted. "Chopped ta pieces an' burnt t'ashes! That's the only sure way ta get rid of her!"

Her body posture indicated fatigue.

"The plan is fer _me_ ta distract her in a fight, an' fer _you_ ta chop her head off, then keep on choppin' till there's nuthin' ta regenerate."

Ah, that was a sound plan.

"Why did you not say you intended me to make the kill instead of you?"

Laura returned to the map and diagrams, crouching.

"Still, from this altercation, it is clear you are not in conditions to be much of a distraction," Laura collected everything into a neat pile. "Mystique is more than capable of handling two skilled opponents at the same time. We will spend the rest of the day sparring."

Rogue was glaring silently from afar.

"You really must control your emotions. Mystique will use them against you."

"Ah _know_," she grumbled viciously.

"Good."

Laura took the map and the notes into the house and returned outside. Rogue was looking at some charm on a necklace.

"We'll start with the basics," Laura informed her. "I will not use my claws, and you will use neither your flight nor your draining powers. Ready?"

She nodded and took off her blouse and her jeans, revealing the uniform she had underneath. Then she hid the charm under the top of the uniform.

"Ready."

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If you've enjoyed the chapter, please leave a review. Just let me know what you liked and disliked so I can keep improving my writing skills. Thank you.


	2. Plans - Part II

Disclaimer: I don't own any characters except my characters. Which are quite a few this time around. Let's try it this way: I don't own any Marvel characters that happen to show up in the upcoming chapters and which I'm sure you'll recognise without any need to name long lists. I also do not own Jenny, which Dizi created a few years back and which is a fabulous character. I strongly recommend you read her adventures with Wolverine and the X-Men.

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**2\. Plans – Part II**

The sky was starting to become less dark in the East when Gambit slid into the ornate home office.

"You'll need a sacrifice," Dan had told him on Friday afternoon, the moment he'd set foot on New Orleans. "You know that."

Yes, he knew. Small sacrifices would get you small unimportant details; big sacrifices would get you juicy information. Gambit was very much aware how Dan Down's relationship with his cards worked. He'd considered using his access to the Academy's finances in order to have the necessary sacrifice as early as possible, but that would have put the X-Men against him. He couldn't risk losing that connection.

In the end, it turned out Gambit couldn't get Dan into a high stakes game before Monday night anyway, which was not a bad timing. He'd have the weekend to visit a few people pointed out by Madame Camille and pile up as much money as he could.

Working swiftly, he opened the fifth safe of the night. Diamond and rubi jewlery. Good thing the special game he'd managed to get seats to wasn't limited to money. Still, he couldn't help wonder if he had enough. The information he was after was the most important thing in his life. There was no money in the world that could come close to how precious his children were.

He slid out of the stately home and checked the time. It was nearly six. There wasn't enough time for a sixth break-in. Would it be enough?

* * *

"Come in," Madame Camille closed the door behind him. "Genevieve is sleepin'. She spent the night workin'."

"And…?"

She sighed and made a gesture towards the couch. Nothing. Nothing at all! Damnit! He unwillingly sat down.

"I was t'inkin' I could visit a couple more places tomorrow night," might risk something even during the day. "Make sure I got me all de sacrifice Dan's cards might want."

"I can suggest some more homes with a good value fer the security," she said. "Make sure ya can collect as much as possible."

He nodded his appreciation.

"As for the kidnappers 'emselves… it ain't gonna be easy ta find what ya need," the woman said softly. "Have ya tried other sources?"

He nodded. The first place he'd stopped by after getting off the plane was Tante Marie's. By the water, she had said. Eyes closed, she had breathed in deeply.

"Oh, but smell dat, won't ya? Fish an' diesel. An' de water! Quiet an' gentle. 'Em babies are vacationin', neh? Vacations don't harm no one, Remy. C'est bien, mon petit."

While it was good to know his babies were on the coast (though one couldn't overlook lakes and large rivers), that was still less than helpful at this point.

"Lay down an' close yer eyes fer a minute, non?" Madame Camille got up. "I'll get ya a list o' more targerts fer tonight, mais… you will not be fast an' careful if you are tired. Sleep some. Have lunch wit' us. In de afternoon, I give you de list."

There was sense in the woman's words and he did lie down, he did close his eyes. He wasn't going to lie and say he didn't feel tired, after all. He should get some rest and make sure he was at the top of his game. Listening to the swirling fan in the quiet room, he tried hard to sleep. He needed to be at the top of his game, now more than ever! And yet…

He could see his Marie, so sweet and headstrong. 'Non' was her favourite word. Non, pappa. And his Christopher! He took a deep breath then let it out slowly. There were hot tears swimming behind the closed eyes lids.

What cut him up the most was knowing that Mystique would find a way to hide les petites so well, that no one would find her. Not unless she made a mistake. Madame Camille might find the address of the kidnappers, but what good would that be? They could only reveal where they'd handed over the children – and he already knew that! Logan had called him from Madrid on Saturday. Right now, he knew as much as those damned kidnappers! What he needed was to know where Mystique had gone from there and the woman was too smart, too experienced to leave behind clues.

The only option was the mystical approach. Tante Marie, Dan's cards… How many times had he been involved with demons and mystical artifacts? Being involved with the Guilds was being involved with mysticism. Or at least it used to be.

Talking to his cousin Emil had opened his eyes to the tremendous changes that had happened. While, before, the guilds had always been a chaotic mess held together by a strong hand, now the Thief Guild was on its way to become a corporation and the Assassins Guild was equally remodeling, reshaping itself to better adjust to the new times.

"Desideria have t'ese offices," Emil had said. "Any thief can go an' give deir name dere. But! Dey must have a document dat proves dey are part o' the Guild. An' ta be part o' the Guild, ya must have an initiation and pay a tithe fer every job ya do. It can be as little as a dime an' there's perks ta do so. The more jobs ya do, the greater respect the Guild pays ya. An' respect translates directly inta jobs, some o' which are free o' tithin'. If ya're caught operatin' outside the Guild, ya get a warnin'. Young 'uns gettin' started will be forced ta work alongside someone ta teach 'em the rules an' may be entitled to a second warnin'. Next time, the Assassins will be called in ta wipe ya off the earth. Ya may not be part o' the current lists o' members, but ya're part o' the Guild. Ya'll have 48 hours ta report yer doings 'fore ya're considered a rogue."

He'd be gone in 48 hours. Hopefully.

"No, cousin. We don' take no kidnappings."

If they did, Emil would have been able to give him names. However, he'd offered to infiltrate the Desideria branch and see if they'd hired anyone for the kidnap. It was a job better done by who was not only a computer genius, but also knew the insides of the group.

In the kitchen, Madame Camille was cooking. Gambit could smell the spiciness of jambalaya on the make. It turned his stomach, though. He sat up on the couch with anger boiling through him and allowed it to become energy in his hands, crackling.

It was so easy to go off and punch people, fight enemies. But this slow wait, wondering when the right information would come, if it would come! For a moment, he wondered how regular folks could do it. People who have their petites kidnapped or missing and can do nothing but sit down and wait for someone else to care enough to bring the little ones home.

The crackling ceased and Gambit picked up his phone, sent Emil a text. He smirked, unamused. Emil Lapin, the ever joking clown… he'd never seen him so serious, so eager to help. Not a single wisecrack. No answer. Et alors? He would be doing more important things than constantly check his phone, non?

There were still thirty hours to go before the arranged time for the poker game. Even though Gambit's plan was to remain active, collecting as much money as possible, it still felt as if he was tied up, waiting on the mercy of others.

A headache speared into his brain the need to rest when he could. He'd been up all night, after all. For over 24 hours, actually. He lay down again. Looked up at the ceiling which had been recently painted. There was a small indentation just right of the lamp that reminded him of the little dimples in Christopher's cheeks.

Merde, he couldn't sleep!

Unwilling to pester Emil when he might be working on getting information from Desideria, he phoned Logan.

"Hey, LeBeau. Any news?"

Taking a deep breath, he said he had people looking for the kidnappers.

"Monday night, if nuthin' goes wrong, I should 'ave somet'ing."

"That's good ta know. Listen, I talked ta Laura yesterday, after callin' ya. Anna is with her. Right now, their plan is ta search any possible haunt o' Mystique's, lookin' fer any clues."

Mon Dieu! What was the aim of such a blind search? He shook his head but said nothing.

"Anna is determined ta have no contact with nobody," Logan continued, "but Laura said she'd keep me in the loop. If they come across anythin' that merits attention, she'll call. If Anna decides ta change her approach, she'll call too. Otherwise, she'll keep silent to avoid gettin' made."

Oui, it was best.

"We're gonna have a meetin' in a few minutes ta decide how we're gonna handle this on our side an' Scott will probably give ya a call afterwards."

He nodded. If the Professor was still alive, he might have used Cerebra to locate the little ones.

"Hey, Cajun. Keep yer head cool, ya hear? We'll find 'em. Ya know, we will."

"C'est bien, mon vieux," he answered curtly. "C'est bien."

Gambit didn't really hear what Logan said before switching off. He once more lay down on the sofa and shut his eyes tight.

"Remy," he hissed at himself, "the only t'ing ya can do ta find les petites right now is sleep an' get ready fer a night o' thievin'. Alors, sleep!"

* * *

Yes, it has come to my attention that Dan Down is dead. Unfortunately, the chapters were already written and… hey, it's an alternate Universe! He survived. Sorry about the mix up.

Oh, and sorry this was such a short chapter, too. The next one will be longer.

* * *

If you've enjoyed the chapter, please leave a review. Just let me know what you liked and disliked so I can keep improving my writing skills. Thank you.


	3. Plans – Part III

Disclaimer: I don't own any characters except my characters. Which are quite a few this time around. Let's try it this way: I don't own any Marvel characters that happen to show up in the upcoming chapters and which I'm sure you'll recognise without any need to name long lists. I also do not own Jenny, which Dizi created a few years back and which is a fabulous character. I strongly recommend you read her adventures with Wolverine and the X-Men.

* * *

**3\. Plans – Part III**

Creed got up with a headache. Those hours spent in Madrid, working with both the Spanish Action Force and Europol, and then with the Portuguese and French police so they could keep an eye out on their borders, had been exhausting. Mostly because he'd had nothing to do except keep a low profile and remember every damned place Mystique had ever spent time in.

He might have a good memory, but he didn't actual know addresses. Take Austria, for example. He knew Mystique had used Salzburg as a base a couple of times, that he was aware of. He even knew the house had been somewhere between a church and a train station, but he'd have to walk the streets to actually locate the address. Of course she wouldn't reuse old places; she might choose to stay in a city she already knew, but she'd find a new place. Even because she usually rented places, not bought them. Although the place in Salzburg might be actually hers, since she'd used the exact same house in two very different time frames. She might have sold it in the mean time, though.

Through those long six hours, he'd sat down out of everyone's way and he'd alternately texted his baby girl and Rogue. That way, if the assholes decided to hack into the phone, he'd have a cover.

Austria. He knew about Salzburg and Bregenz. That last one was a good bet: it was on a lake that bordered Germany and Switzerland. He suggested Raven might choose a farm near the lake, whether it was in Austria, Germany or Switzerland.

She had never been one for Italy, which meant she might head that way. She'd probably stick to the north of the country, though. Unlike Isabel, who loved the typically Mediterranean kind of overdose socialisation, meddling in everyone's life under the guise of scorching warmth towards any hapless neighbour, Raven preferred to keep to herself and meddling neighbours tended to risk certain death. Creed had this feeling that the further north you went in Italy, the less meddling people became. The north was also home to several heavily touristed places, which meant people would overlook strangers settling down for a few weeks.

Creed expected Raven to stay in a place with the children for two or three weeks before moving on. He'd almost kept the thoughts to himself, but it was best if Rogue was seething so he pointed out to her that once the children were ready to accept Raven as their new mom, perhaps in a year or two, then she could settle down for good. Or at least for longer. He could picture her making her way through Europe that way. Not in a straight line, though.

He hadn't been able to text while on the jet because the guys had become offended with his uninterest in working with the national and international police forces, but once they'd arrived and the mighty leader had sent everyone off to have a good night sleep – sleep-deprivation wouldn't help anyone, he'd pointed out – Creed had returned to texting more possiblities.

Since everyone knew Raven had been working in France, it was likely to expect her to avoid that country, but France was fairly big. She could very well find her way into a villa near Nice, or head to the French Alps, with the added bonus of easily sliding into Switzerland. Unfortunately, Creed didn't know any haunts she'd used in the past in France, but she had worked in Monte Carlo.

However, if Raven's aim was to raise the children far away from society so as to better to brainwash them into good little soldiers, she would head to places where homeschooling was king. The Australian outback, for example. Or very simply come back to the States! The smart thing would be to head to Mexico or to Canada and then smuggle herself in. She could do it with her eyes closed. Unless she decided to stick to Canada. There really was no better place to raise a kid: peaceful, lots of empty spaces, enough freedom to homeschool, and a healthy climate. Only Raven wasn't a fan of the wilderness, nor of long snowy winters, so she'd head south. Or she'd head to the Kootenays. The idea that she might accidentally choose Creston Valley of all places gave him goosebumps. But no, she'd head South. She'd roamed the States for decades, not Canada, which meant she knew far better all the loopholes she could disappear into.

He was about to call it a night and get some sleep when he'd received a text from Rogue asking details about the conversation they'd had back in that Parisian restaurant. Taking a minute to fully remember it, he texted it as close to the letter as possible, then he forced himself to put himself in Mystique's shoes.

_homeschooling_, he texted, _only sure way of molding kids to a certain worldview_

Then he focused on his own knowledge of how to raise a child. He'd love to homeschool his Lil' Devil himself, but Isabel insisted that going to school was the best way of teaching her to socialise and get to know a wide variety of human types. That variety was important to help her understand how different people can be. He could see her point of view, but still… there was so much more to learn outside school!

_at 2yo you can start teaching some basic concepts about how the world functions_

_at 3yo they can understand a lot and start get ingrained concepts_

_when the why questions start is de right time to really get them to take as granted a mutants superiority_

_but socialising is important _

_if shes smart shell find a way to let the twins socialise as toddlers_

_if shes too obssessed to think straight shell isolate them completely and use outside references only to mold their little heads_

Of course, going off on a topic he was particularly partial to – a child's best education and how different strategies may or may not produce different outcomes depending on the child's personality – he'd ended up ranting freely about all the different posibilities and had told Rogue in no uncertain way that Raven would stick around Southern Europe until the children fully accepted her. Not Central or Northern Europe; Southern. The children weren't used to a lot of people, so she'd likely avoid big cities and crowded tourist spots and go for out of the way villas but still stay near those same touristy points so as to pass off as a tourist. It would be safer to move locations every two weeks in order to reinforce her image of a tourist travelling with her children. In one year or one year and a half – at the latest – she'd find her way back to the States where it was much easier to either disappear off the grid completely, or to create new identities that were kept out of sight through homeschooling.

He must have texted some three or four variations on that same idea, each time going into details on how it could be done. And there were many ways how it could be done! In the end, Creed had ended up with what Summers didn't want: sleep deprivation. Come the morning, Logan – of all people – had come down to pester him. Hell of a way to wake up.

Sunday's usual late breakfast had come and gone, but Isabel had stuck around to make him eggs. Unfortunately, the runt was shadowing him so all he could do was sit his Lil' Devil on his lap and ask 'slept well?' a bit too loudly.

"Very well," Isabel answered from the stove, while Lilia bobbed her head up and down brightly. "A bomb could explode dat she wouldn't notice!"

He hoped the 'very well' part had included herself but he didn't say anything. Lilia wanted to go out and hunt a big bad bear with Pappa and, the moment he started explaining it wouldn't be possible, she went straight into a teary tantrum of screeched 'not fair'. He tried to deflect it with animal drawings, fooling around with Wolfy, playing in the gym and baking a cake, but all he managed was to shift the screeching into dejected sobbing.

"Fine. Ya can help Pappa find 'em babies, how does that sound?"

Isabel put the plate of eggs in front of him as Lilia kept on with her – fortunately not loud – sobbed tantrum. No point in ruining the meal. He adjusted the girl so she was leaning on his side, a frustrated kick occasionally finding his thighs, and ate the eggs. Then he straightened her up and forced her to look him in the eyes.

"D'ya wanna stay wi' Papa?" She nodded with a snotty sniff. "Then clean yer nose an' shush. If ya don't make no noise, Summers won't kick ya out o' the meetin' room and ya can stay with me."

She didn't beam at the idea, but at least she quieted down and even blowed her nose all by herself.

Nobody was amused with the idea of the girl sitting through the meeting – as if he was! – but Summers shushed Bishop and Guthrie's comments.

"She knows she has ta be quiet or she'll hav'ta leave," Creed had told the guy, who'd acknowledged it with a stiff nod.

"We were talking about Anna," Summers said as both Creed and Logan sat down. "I was just telling everyone that you contacted Laura…"

Creed frowned at the interruption and the guy's sudden glance his way. Now what? Lilia was quietly dangling her feet, sitting on his lap, not a sound coming from her.

"You know Laura, right? Laura McKinney, aka X-23?"

"Logan's lil' she-clone," he nodded. "Trust me: _everyone_ knows 'bout her."

"What d'you mean?" Logan frowned suspiciously.

"Nuthin'!" But the guy snarled as if he was about to avenge some offensive slight. "Look, the moment ya guys got her playin' on yer side, she became the new mutant celebrity. Nobody moved a finger at first 'cause o' private interests. Ya know, her creators. Then word got out she was a mean killin' machine despite her age, colder an' more effective than a dozen ferals put together, an' the interest cooled down. More importantly, word got leaked her DNA had been tampered with. It means everyone knows 'bout her, but no one's interested in goin' after her, fer one reason or the other."

The runt sat back with an annoyed expression – Creed couldn't figure out why – and Summers kept going.

"Right, I was telling everyone you contacted Laura and that, yes, Anna enlisted Laura's help to find Mystique. They'll probably go through Mystique's houses, though I don't know how Anna hopes to find her. Really, I don't. Gambit is still down in New Orleans, working his old contacts and trying to find a lead on the kidnappers and the couriers. He hopes to use them to identify their handlers and then climb up the hierarchy ladder till whoever knows where Mystique headed to."

Much better plan than Rogue's if you asked Creed. Fortunately, he'd be feeding her all the information he got his hands on. He'd have to be careful, though. The little clone could tell Logan that he was pushing Rogue into killing Raven and the asshole might get all anti-vengence, the way he had with Doc Jap.

"Bottom line: Anna is focusing on Mystique; Gambit is taking a down-up approach; we will take an up-down approach. We know Samuel Greer is in charge of the American branch and that he was in on the abduction. We are going to find…"

"Pappa, it's a pawot!"

"Shush, Victoria!" He hissed immediately, his eyes darting to the window and the couple of birds flying around a bush outside.

"But it's a _pawot_!" She whispered, eyes wide in excitement.

Summers cleared his throat warningly.

"It's a parakeet," Creed whispered through clenched teeth. "Now shush or ya'll be kicked out."

The girl repeated 'pawakee' under her breath, her gaze stuck on the birds outside as her legs swung excitedly against his shins.

"As I was saying, we've got a physical description of the man besides his name. Bishop confirmed he flew under that same name so we're going to start searching for him under the assumption that it is his real name. At the same time, we'll keep on organising the information on the people Bishop and Sam collected…"

"Kraah," Lilia immitated the birds outside.

"…in Paris," Summers finished with a glance his way.

Creed took out the cell phone from his back pocket and asked him if he had any earbuds around. Since it was obviously to distract the girl, the guy went over to a drawer and got him a pair while Creed adjusted the sound for the Bird Songs app. It had over 100 birds and Lilia could already identify nearly 40 with only occasional mix ups. The girl made a face when he gave her the earbud but, as he threatened she'd have to leave otherwise, she leaned grouchly against his body and started playing the game.

"We're going to divide in groups. Bishop and Sam, you'll focus on identifying Samuel Greer through any means necessary. I'm going to contact Sofía to see if she can give you a hand. Since her team was given the case of the kidnapped twins, they may be interested in following up with us but, of course, that will depend on Eric Norton, not her."

Creed glanced downwards to check Lilia was busy, but the girl was playing the quiz game sulkily, looking about the room and shooting the outside whithering glares, while getting even the easy songs wrong. She usually liked playing the game when she was stuck inside a building and couldn't move about freely. Why was she being difficult today of all days?

"The rest of us will go through the list of people, identify any person or place that may pose an interest, and investigate them. For example, we had already identified a courier they use in New York City, a… uh… Patricia something, if I'm not mistaken. We have a two-day deadline to identify as many similar couriers as possible that work in the New York State. Then, we'll simultaneously confront them in order to know exactly where they collect the packages they deliver. With any luck, we'll locate the distribution center and raid it before the group is aware of it."

"What about the Anonymous group that kidnapped Jubilee and Isabel?" Pryde asked. "I dropped everything related to that because of the twins, but we can't ignore it. I know Jubilee was set to go back into it the moment the paperwork concerning the abducted children was done with, but she is dependent on my analysis of the videos. Barnaby thinks we've given them all the original videos in one go, and Jubilee would prefer he doesn't realise we only give them the original videos after we've checked them ourselves. Unless, of course, you want me to make copies of everything and send all the originals."

Summers shook his head.

"We're not sharing any videos we haven't studied first. If those people mind-probed anyone who is related to the X-Men or the X-Ops, or someone who'd better not be known to the feds… Let's do the following: we all work together today and tomorrow. On Tuesday, we'll check out the couriers and any distribution centers we can locate. Then, you can switch to the Anonymous video analysis."

The girl nodded.

"Emma is going to stay at the Academy for some more time, but I asked Bobby to come down. The work groups are as follow: Bishop, Sam and Logan – if you do end up working with the FBI, you'll need an official X-Men doing the contacts; Kitty and Kurt; Peter, Bobby and Hank; me and Creed."

Creed nodded. Ever since that night when the guy had allowed him to be near Isabel for Lilia's sake, Creed didn't really dislike working with him around the Institute any longer. He was much more lenient and flexible these days.

"Alright, then. We'll head out to confront the couriers Tuesday, just before sunrise. That way, we'll be able to raid distribution centers as early as possible. Afterwards…"

"I don't mean t'interrupt," Creed cut in, " But there's somethin' I've been thinkin'. That Owen Nills guy, the one who's either a shape-shifter or uses an image inducer, was an auditor. That means his job includes verifyin' the clients, accordin' ta what Rogue got from Gautier's memories, which means he's the most likely ta have real information 'bout Mystique's whereabouts."

"Yes, I've thought about that too," Summers said. "But we have nothing we can use to track him down."

"I know his scent," Creed pointed out. "And if he coordinated the US branch with Europe, there's a good chance he's in the US now, maybe meetin' local heads in their offices. He had been t' the warehouse where the American girl was bein' kept, back in Paris."

"Good point. If we uncover more than one distribution center on Tuesday, you will go…"

"No!" Lilia interrupted pleadingly, the phone immediately dropped to the floor.

"Ok, this is enough," Summers said.

"No, Pappa, pweeeaaase! It's not fair! You can't go away again, Pappa, pwease! Pweeaase!"

Under her loud pleading, Summers insisted he had to take her to her mother. It had been a bad idea from the start, keeping in mind the topic involved field work, and that if she was going to cry through the meeting, she might as well cry outside. Creed tried to make her stand and look at him so she'd listen, but it was in vain: she simply clung harder, rubbing her face on him while moving from 'pwease' to loud 'Pappaaaa-ah' sobs right next to his ears. It was at times like this he wished he could switch off his heightened hearing.

"I thought you'd said she was getting better," Bishop commented.

"Progression ain't linear in this kinda stuff," he grumbled. "And she does have a point, ya know. She ain't spent more than one hour with me in a whole week."

Summers opened the door and motioned him to go, but the girl started screeching in antecipation. It was like hot irons being thrusted through his eardrum.

"Enough!" Her little body jumped in his arms and she shushed for a second. It was when inspiration struck. "Let's go buy a bike!"

Lilia softened her grip on his shirt and Creed was finally able to make her stand on his legs.

"Ya wanna go bikin' with Zelig, don't ya? So ya need a bike. Let's go buy ya one!"

She offered a confused half-grin even as she glanced nervously at Summers, standing by the open door.

"But first ya gotta choose what type o' bike ya want. Summers, can we use yer computer? Lilia has ta see all the bikes there are so she can decide what she wants. 'Cause we gotta know that 'fore we head t'the shops, don't we? Sure we do!"

She was still glancing at Summers as if he would put an end to it any time soon but the guy waved an unwilling 'go ahead' and closed the door.

"An' just so we're all on the same page, there's so much paperwork Pappa gotta check right here at the house, there's no way I'll be goin' out fer more than a couple of hours any time soo. Ain't that so, Summers?"

At his expression of 'say yes, dammit', the guy nodded. A cell phone started ringing in the room.

"Yeah, there's lots of paperwork, that's for sure." He picked the phone. "Yes, Jubilee. Any news?"

Creed spelled out the letters for the child to excitedly type in the search engine using only her right hand, as the left one was holding his wrist possessively.

"Ok, everyone. Jubilee is wrapping up a SPAD meeting and then she'll head up for a general debrief both on her side – in relation to the abdutcted children and the Anonymous group – and on our side – in relation to the twins and the Anonymous. She's also offering to bring pizzas since she'll get here at about lunch time. Creed, she'll be giving Jenny and Zelig a lift. She figured Lilia might need someone to play with while we're talking."

Smart girl. Lilia perked up on his lap, her grip never once softening on his wrist.

"Pappa, can we hunt a bea' on ou' bikes?"

He was about to point out she didn't have a bike yet, but a thought crossed his mind.

"Ya could go ta school together on yer bikes."

She clapped her hands, excitedly. Ok, this was it! Wait, better correct that.

"Well, I don't know if ya can bike yer way ta school, but ya could go together in the car."

She nodded, eyes shining, and both her hands clamped onto his arm.

"And then we pway on our bikes aw day in schoo'!"

"I think they play special school games there. But maybe ya can play on yer bikes during the mornin' break. We'll have ta ask the school. D'ya wanna go an' play school games?"

She nodded again.

"And you come too, Pappa."

He measured his words.

"Sure. Pappa will _take_ ya ta school every day fer as long as ya want."

"Creed, what do you want?" He didn't understand Summer's question immediately. "For the pizza."

"Large meat pizza fer me, medium tuna an' shrimp fer Isabel, an' small meat one fer Lilia. Make sure it's thin crust an' that they cut down on the sauce."

As Summers talked to the girl on the phone, Creed took the chance to give Lilia an important job.

"Run all the way to yer Mamma an' tell her three things: one, Jubee is bringin' pizza fer lunch; two, your pizza is meat; three, her pizza is tuna an' shrimp. Then run all the way back, as fast as ya can, so we can finish wi' the bikes."

He had her parrot the message first, to make sure she'd gotten it all, then he set her out on the errand.

"That's annoying," Bishop grumbled the minute she was out.

"Who the fuck ya're callin' annoyin', asshole?"

"It isn't who, it's what. Or did you enjoy the screeching?"

Creed growled lightly and got up.

"Compared ta half an hour of a four-month-old screechin' till she's purple and ya don't even know what's wrong so ya can fix it, this is a walk in the park. At least I know why she's cryin'!"

He approached Summers, who reacted with a 'now what?' while putting the phone away.

"Look, Mystique's busy, so it's time I really get the girl in a school. Somebody was sayin' Zelig's school has kindergarten levels and I was just wonderin' if ya could ask Wagner any more details 'bout it. It's probably the safest option in the area, right?"

He shrugged.

"Yeah, sure. But we're going to need you in the field, Creed."

"Yeah, I know. But fer as long as we're coverin' the New York area, that won't be more than what? Two ta four hours? Then I come back, play a bit with her an' there won't be no problem. If I can get her in a school in one week, things will be even easier! But I will have ta take her ta school every day, Summers. _And_ pick her up. At least in the first week. Then I'll slowly get her used ta sometimes bein' me, sometimes bein' Mamma."

Or Wagner. If Lilia got on board with going from school to playing with Zelig for a couple of hours, then she'd be so busy she wouldn't have time to think about where Pappa was.

Summers didn't answer him, though. With a terse sigh, he got his phone back.

"Hi, Kurt. How's Zelig?"

Creed could clearly hear the guy say that Hank had definitely ruled chicken pox out. He frowned as Wagner kept on talking about fever and glanced about him. Logan was the nearest person, leaning on the desk.

"What's wi'the chicken pox story?" He asked in a low voice.

"One of his school colleagues got chicken pox. Zelig was out cyclin' with some other colleagues yesterday, an' then both him and another boy woke up with fever this mornin'. Jenny was afraid it might be chicken pox, so she talked ta Hank ta check on both kids."

That explained why neither McCoy nor Wagner were in the meeting.

"… if Zelig's school has openings in the kindergarten for Lilia."

Creed focused on the conversation. There was a casual 'yes' on the other side, that it was a matter of going through the application.

"How long do you think it'll take? The sooner the better: right now, Lilia is back to crying if she can't be next to Creed. We just had her in a meeting because she wouldn't be kept away. We really need her to get busy with school ASAP so Creed can have more freedom of movement."

"I'll give Ms Hill a call about it," Wagner said. "Maybe the process can be sped up."

"So," Creed said when Summers ended the call. "Zelig won't be comin' over, then."

Summers nodded with a frown.

"No, Hank said he should stay indoors and watch TV or play something quiet, but he'll come over. It's probably one of those viruses kids get. It was just a light fever and lack of appetite. He even grumbled about having to stay indoors!"

Doing something quiet indoors? Let's hope his girl went for it. Speaking of the devil…

"Pappa! Pappa! I'm back!"

"Then let's get back ta those bikes."

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If you've enjoyed the chapter, please leave a review. Just let me know what you liked and disliked so I can keep improving my writing skills. Thank you.


	4. The Truth and Nothing but the Truth

Disclaimer: I don't own any characters except my characters. Which are quite a few this time around. Let's try it this way: I don't own any Marvel characters that happen to show up in the upcoming chapters and which I'm sure you'll recognise without any need to name long lists. I also do not own Jenny, which Dizi created a few years back and which is a fabulous character. I strongly recommend you read her adventures with Wolverine and the X-Men.

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**4\. The Truth and Nothing but the Truth**

Isabel had been having nightmares since the mind probe, a week ago, but had only effectively stopped sleeping four days ago. Well, sleeping at night, at least.

Over those four days, she hadn't managed to sleep much during the day because of the urgency in finding the abducted children, but this Sunday… Oh, this Sunday she'd had nearly two hours to indulge in some much needed sleep before lunch. Of course, she had woken up with a nightmare, but… it wasn't so bad. She had realised one thing, though: she couldn't sleep in her bedroom because the smell of fear she let out during the nightmares would still affect her baby girl, but that meant the den was not a good choice either. Lilia had barged in, for example – which hadn't been that bad as she'd just started on a down-spiraling dream – and had become skittish. But imagine Logan or Hank had walked in! They would be capable of identifying that scent as fear. She could not let that happen. They already saw her as a desperately helpless porcelain doll in danger of breaking at every turn. She must show herself to be strong and in control.

There were only two ways to deal with the problem. First option: choose a far off bedroom not in use by anyone. There were plenty in the huge house! She'd have to set an alarm clock to wake her up every 30 or 40 minutes so no one would notice her gone for too long, with the added benefit the nightmares wouldn't have enough time to get too bad. Of course that would depend a lot on whether Victor had time to spend with Lilia.

Having trouble enjoying one of her favourite pizzas, Isabel looked around the table. Jubilee was talking about the Anonymous and she really didn't want to hear anything about any of that. It would only make her dreams worse. Victor was focused on the discussion and giving his two cents every now and then and, for once, Isabel could see how well he fit in with the X-Men. Logan – the person Victor hated the most in the whole world! – said something and Victor agreed heatedly, brought up the example of a kidnapped… God, why did they all talk about nothing but kidnappings!

She shook her head. If he wasn't so insecure with that stupid jerk reputation to uphold, he'd be completely at home with the group. He belonged in that world of super-powers and mutant and anti-mutant menaces. She didn't.

Isabel glanced at Lilia, sitting between Pappa and Zelig. They were mostly playing with their food, but Isabel didn't feel like scolding them. She was too tired. Jenny, sitting next to Zelig, didn't scold them either. For as long as they were busy fooling around, they wouldn't think of paying attention to all the harshness of the topics discussed by the grown-ups.

"Someone remind me how many names we got from the French branch," Victor said.

"Over 500," Bishop answered. "But only about 200 of them are based in the US."

"Say we spend an average o' five minutes per person. That's still a lot o' time, even if we're ten people lookin' into it. That much time pressure, factor in some tiredness, an' there's a good chance we'll miss some important detail."

Logan glanced away from Kitty, who was explaining something about a computer programme to Sam and Peter – at least from what Isabel could make out – and said Kitty's app would get them all the connections they could wish for.

"The moment she figures out how ta import the data straight into the app, it's a done deal. It's a matter o' time."

"Time? Look, I know that girl's genius-level skilled with computers, but if she spends ten hours a day goin' through those 200 names wi' the rest of us, she'll end up too burnt out ta use all that brilliancy. Urgent or not, we'll all need ta go slow or we'll end up missin' a smokin' gun. That's all I'm sayin'."

"There's the mind-probin' videos, too," Logan added. "Most will have nuthin' useful, _but_."

"Damn right! An' the gold nuggets will probably be lil' things easy ta miss," Victor literally pointed as Logan agreed and suggested there should be at least two pairs of eyes analysing each video.

"We should try an' get reinforcements," Bishop grimaced. "What is Sage up to these days? Her computer minded brain would come in handy."

No, Isabel wouldn't be able to count on him to keep an eye on Lilia. Perhaps an hour or so, but… No. Which meant she had to go for option two: talk to Summers and get Lilia a room just for her, like the big girl she was.

To be honest, she was expecting a big fat 'no', which meant she had to present the matter as efectively as possible. Perhaps she should start with the idea of sharing a room with Victor. As sure as they all were that he was violent with her, Summers would give her an immediate 'no' and then anything she asked for would sound better in comparison. It sounded like a plan.

Oh, if only she could successfully argue the point of Victor and her sharing the same room! But say what? She had no arguments she could use, not with her hands tied by the promise she'd made Victor. It all boiled down to the same, really: why must he be so insecure around these people?

"Pweeaase, Jenny!"

Isabel looked sharply at her daughter. What was going on?

"I'm sorry, but Zelig can't play outside in the sun. And he definitely can't run around."

"But TV's _boring_! It's aw fake!"

Victor picked her up and out of the chair before Isabel had the chance to say anything, telling her to write a story.

"Ya can write, can't ya, boy?" He nodded, Jenny's hand protectively on his shoulder. "There. Ya come up wi' the story together, he writes it and ya draw the pictures. But it gotta be a proper story and _I_ will be judgin' how good it is. So work hard, ya hear?"

She still wasn't happy, but she let Zelig get her hand and pull her away with the promise of making the best ever story.

"Ya ain't eaten nuthin'!"

The whisper caught her off guard and she only had time of seeing Victor frown angrily for a moment before he joined the others, who were leaving the kitchen. The exchange didn't escape Summers, though, who shot him a reproachful glare. No. No one would ever allow them to share a room.

"Guess we're stuck with the cleaning while they all focus on the paperwork, huh?" Isabel forced a smile for Jenny then got up and helped clearing the table.

"We need to talk seriously," the woman said as she was loading the dishwasher. God, she hoped this wasn't about… "Kurt told me you want Lilia to go to Zelig's school…"

What? Isabel froze. What?!

"… but if we… uh… Didn't you know about this? Scott phoned Kurt this morning and I thought…"

Isabel felt numb. Scott Summers had made the decision? She might have expected such a thing from Emma Frost, but…

"Are you telling me _nobody_ talked to you about it?"

Isabel shook her head silently. She felt like bursting, whether screaming her outrage or crying or both. She did neither, though. Even as Jenny left the kitchen fuming, Isabel remained as she was. Because, yes, there was a third option to her problem. If Lilia did start school, she could hide herself all morning to sleep, with the failsafe of the alarm-clock snapping her up regularly to avoid the nightmares from getting out of hand. But she could sleep. And Lilia wouldn't spend all day long fixated on where Pappa was. She'd be too busy learning and having fun.

Taking a deep breath to calm her warring emotions, Isabel went after Jenny.

She had been acting selfishly, she told herself. Her baby girl needed to expand her horizons, not get stuck inside a house with her Mamma all day long. She needed to make friends, be stimulated, be active. Maybe she should have enrolled her in pre-school when she was three. Only half-day if necessary. Perhaps her possessiveness over Pappa wouldn't have become so deep.

"…without talking to the _mother_!"

The silence in the room made Jenny's outraged voice even more powerful.

"Is ok, Jenny." Isabel said, aware of how weak her own voice sounded next to Jenny's. "Is time Lilia starts school so… Is ok."

Her emotions were still warring inside her and she felt so defeated. So weak, useless and utterly defeated. It was just the tiredness of sleeping next to nothing, she knew, but that knowledge didn't ease the negative emotions. To avoid the humilliation of risking tears, she kept her eyes on the carpet rather than face the people inside. Especially Victor. It was humilliation enough that he saw her weakness right now, no need to make it worse with tears.

Jenny stomped out furiously and put a comforting arm over her shoulders, led her away, back to the kitchen, still seething.

"You shouldn't let them get away with this," she insisted. "If you don't want Lilia to start kindergarten, then they can't band together and make that decision for you. I still can't believe…!"

"No, Jenny," but she still couldn't imprint strength into her voice. "I was being stubborn. Stupid, selfish and stubborn. Lilia should start school. Maybe she should have started years ago!"

She simply had had to hit rock bottom to see the reality of her daughter's needs. Such a good mother she was!

"Are you sure?" Jenny sat in front of her with a sigh. "Because if you'd rather she didn't, I'll back you up and no one will force this decision on you. And try not to abuse yourself while you're at it. You are neither stupid nor selfish, do you hear?"

Isabel took a deep breath and straightened herself, looked Jenny in the eyes,

"I want dat she starts school."

Jenny breathed out and sat back.

"Ok. Then there's something we need to talk about, and I expect absolute honesty from you, Isabel."

Now what? She did not have the patience or the strength for more shenanigans.

"Zelig's school accepts mutant children. That means the application process requires candidates to have a sponsor, someone who vows that the parents and family of the child not only welcome the idea of human and mutant children studying together but are also committed to protecting the school by not mentioning its mutant-friendly reality."

Isabel nodded, not really getting the point of the conversation.

"Kurt has already talked to Ms Hill, the headmistress and owner of the school, and so we have automatically become your sponsors."

She nodded again.

"But it's not just about mutants. I'm supposed to vow for… I can't in good conscience vow for you if you don't tell me something first."

"What?" She still couldn't see what Jenny was getting at.

"Is Creed abusive towards you?"

Not you too, was her immediate thought, her shoulders sagging.

"Has he ever hit you or man-handled you? Has he ever left you bruised? On your word of honor, Isabel!"

Isabel sighed.

"What I tell you can't leave dis room."

"On my word of honor," Jenny replied firmly.

She nodded and looked her friend in the eye.

"De whole story: when we first met, we had some discussions and he beat me. He almost killed me twice. I think was twice, yes. But de moment we found out I was pregnant, he never hit me again. _Never_."

Jenny nodded.

"What about bruises? What about when he gets angry and he grabs you or shakes you or… you know."

Isabel shook her head.

"And his claws? Has he ever used or threatened to use them on you?"

"Jenny, we have fights, yes. But when dat happens, he leaves de house and cools down, den he comes back and we talk. Is all."

"So he has never hit you, has never cut you, has never bruised you. On your word of honor."

She hesitated.

"On my word of honour," she said in a deadly whisper, "he leaves bruises and he cuts me wid his claws, but only _in bed_, if you are understanding me. And he uses his claws because _I_ want. Well, he likes too, but… Look, his advantage is dat he heals really fast, so I could… could put a knife through his heart and he would heal and call it foreplay. And I'm not saying we do anything like dat! Just dat… you know, things… get a bit wild, sometimes, and is not because of fights and discussions."

Jenny sat in silence looking at her for what felt like a minute.

"Ok. That was… I'm sorry, but I had to ask." Isabel nodded her understanding. "It's just… It really doesn't look like he treats you right, you know? He looks so angry and possessive, and you look like you're afraid of him half…"

"I'm _not_ afraid of him!" Isabel shot heatedly. "And Victor is _not_ like dat! He… he… Oh, Jenny! He is so different when he is in Canada. So different!"

"What do you mean?"

How could she explain?

"He is relaxed." Confident and at ease, but she couldn't say that, could she? She couldn't imply he was insecure around his old enemies. "He doesn't need to have his guard up all de time."

"And why does he have to here?"

"For de same reason everyone has deir guard up wid him. Dey are long time enemies, Jenny. He doesn't trust de X-Men and de X-Men don't trust him, and everyone has good reasons for dat."

Jenny shook her head and Isabel felt a desperate need to have someone who understood her.

"He doesn't love me, Jenny. I love him, but he doesn't love me. All he has for me is… friendship, I suppose."

At least she hoped he thought of her as a trusted friend. The only one he had.

"When we are alone, we… we talk, we laugh… He has dis dark humour dat I love! And I make him laugh, too. He always worries if I'm ok and…" She rubbed an eye to prevent a treacherous tear from flowing down. "He is always texting me when he's away, or he calls. We have dis joke: he asks me what am I doing and I answer stupid things and den I ask him and he answers stupid things too."

That sounded so stupid and cheesy, didn't it?

"You really miss being with him, don't you?"

Isabel sniffed, unable to hold back the tears.

"He can't relax and be himself wid people around, Jenny. He only does dat when he's alone wid me. He doesn't love me. I know dat and is ok. I chose to live wid him and I knew he didn't love me, dat he was never going to love me. Is ok. But he likes me and I am very, _very_ happy wid dat! But wid de X-Men, because he doesn't trust dem, he becomes like dis… block of ice! Like he doesn't care about me. Like I mean nothing. But is not true! I _know_ is not true."

It couldn't be. She knew those grand cheesy gestures he sometimes performed for her, back in Creston, were mostly because of what people would say afterwards. She knew. But there were also those small gestures he did when there was no one around. He did care for her. She so wanted to believe he did. Even if it was a friendly rather than a loving care.

"You should talk to Scott," Jenny said thoughtfully. "Try and explain…"

"No!" Isabel got up, alarmed. "No, Jenny! You're insane? Victor doesn't trust dem, hides everything he normally is, and you want dat I go behind his back and expose him? I can't betray him like dat!"

"And you think the alternative is sustainable? Everyone thinking he abuses you either physically or emotionally, and neither you nor him doing anything to change that? This is not good for you, and it isn't good for Lilia either!"

Isabel shook her head.

"I can't betray his trust. He has a lot of trouble trusting people, Jenny. A lot! You have no idea how long it took for him to trust me." If he fully did. After all, he had never shared anything about his past, had he? He might trust her more than everyone else, but it still didn't mean he trusted her fully. "If he decides to be honest wid de X-Men, dat has to be his choice. I can't force him and I can't go behind his back."

"Have you at least talked with him?"

She breathed out angrily.

"You forget we are prohibitted of talking alone."

"Uh-huh. And, according to some people, he spends a lot of time texting Lilia's phone. Lilia, who can't read and must have someone reading the messages back to her. Are you telling me you have never used that phone to talk, just the two of you?"

A ball of fire floated to Isabel's cheeks.

"Right. Have you told him how much this attitude of his hurts you?"

And admit she was a weakling who couldn't stand on her own without his support? The wave of heat receded and left behind shamed ice.

"You know what? I'm going to tell you what I told Jubilee: you have the solution to your problem in your hands. The problem itself is not that big, you're the one who's making it worse. When you get over your own fears, you will easily fix it. Until then…" Jenny shrugged and got up. "I'll give you all the support you need to get over yourself and fix this, but you have to be the one fixing it."

Silent, Isabel followed Jenny's example and finished cleaning up the kitchen.

It wasn't that she didn't understand what Jenny meant: of course clearing the misconception that Victor was abusive towards her was the sane thing to do, but… she simply couldn't betray his trust. And as for talking to him, say what? He might have changed for his daughter's sake, but he did not care for Isabel enough to change for her sake. Sure, she could paint it as… as if she needed saving. As if explaining their relationship was the only thing that could save her from her nightmares. She could. But she would not debase herself before Victor. He already knew she was weak in comparison to most women he associated with; she was not going to show him how much worse reality was. _That_ she could not do.

* * *

If you've enjoyed the chapter, please leave a review. Just let me know what you liked and disliked so I can keep improving my writing skills. Thank you.


	5. Trust

Disclaimer: I don't own any characters except my characters. Which are quite a few this time around. Let's try it this way: I don't own any Marvel characters that happen to show up in the upcoming chapters and which I'm sure you'll recognise without any need to name long lists. I also do not own Jenny, which Dizi created a few years back and which is a fabulous character. I strongly recommend you read her adventures with Wolverine and the X-Men.

* * *

**5\. Trust**

Rogue was sleeping deeply when the phone beeped. Nevertheless, the small sound roused her immediately. It was past 11 pm in Kabul, but it was early afternoon in New York. Creed might have important news.

_x23 is in touch w logan _

What?

"Any developments?" Laura asked oh-so-innocently.

With a roar of piled up frustration, Rogue attacked the clone.

"Ya back-stabbin' snake!" She yelled when the girl deflected the smashing blow and lept out of reach. "Ya schemin' lyin' bitch!"

In the absolute darkness of the house, Laura had the clear upper-hand since her heightened vision allowed her to see where Rogue was, while Rogue was limited to using her phone as a lantern, and it was quickly running out of battery.

"Logan mentioned it to the others, I suppose," her calm voice came from the left and Rogue pointed the phone in her direction, but all she saw was a vanishing foot. "He called me a couple of hours before you arrived and I confirmed you had asked for my assistance."

"Why didn't you tell me?!"

"I saw no benefit to it," she said, nonchalant. "They must not know we intend to kill Mystique and must equally have no idea of when we locate her, but it is in our interest that they do not start looking for you. For as long as I assure Logan we are working together, giving no sign of getting closer to the shapeshifter, nobody will come looking for you."

Rogue shook her head, still furious.

"Ya should'ave told me!"

"You are much too emotional and impulsive, Rogue. Telling you would have simply caused an outburst – much like this one. Well, you have your inside informant. He can confirm that all the information Logan will ever possess is that we're investigating every safe-house of Mystique's that you know of."

Rogue fell to her knees, feeling as impotent as when she was Anna Marie, the anger still pulsing through her body.

"Ya should still have told me."

A deep sigh of annoyance.

"I will probably have greater chances of killing the shapeshifter if I tackle her by myself. I suggest you simply keep your temper in check and let me handle the fight when the time comes."

No! She was not the defenseless Anna Marie anymore!

"Ah will kill…"

"_You_ will _protect_ your children," Laura cut her off, "from immediate harm. While I will keep my part of the deal and protect them from the future harm the shapeshifter means to them."

Rogue had tears running down her face again. Laura was right: she wouldn't go after Mystique if that meant leaving her babies alone. She'd never do that.

"I told you I would kill Mystique, Rogue, and that is what I will do. You must trust me."

Trust? She had trusted Milly to watch over her babies, too… She had trusted Remy to keep the Academy safe and her babies untouchable.

"Now, sleep. You need your strength and your mind collected. This hunt will not be fast and will not be easy. If you cannot control your temper, we will simply waste time and effort."

Rogue sniffed, the impotence running in her veins despite the recovered invulnerability of her body.

"Ah'll always be present when ya contact Logan," she hissed.

"If that is what it takes for you to remain in control of your emotions," Laura agreed coldly.

Rogue was still kneeling on the old rug when she felt Laura lie down a couple of inches beside her. She didn't move, though. Eyes open to the pitch darkness of the mud house, she tried to tell herself she wouldn't have more outbursts. She was aware that she must have a cold head to outsmart the treacherous woman, and she was also very much aware that she was far from being cool-headed.

Besides, Laura was a killing machine. If she'd promised to kill Mystique… And, yet, she could not trust that the young woman would go through with it. In her heart, she knew, she knew! If Mystique were to die, it would have to be at her hands, because no one else would…

No one else.

Slowly, she lay down on the harsh bedding.

Once more toying with the little hollow hearts, her fingertips caressing the engraved names, it occurred to Rogue she couldn't trust even herself to kill Mystique. After all, wouldn't she willing let her go rather than leave her babies unattended?

"Promise me you will kill her," Rogue whispered in the darkness.

"I promise," the other woman said in a coldly annoyed tone.

It sounded like the hollow words of a mother who promises to let her child stay up late just to shush the pestering request while having no intention of letting it happen.

Rogue told herself it simply meant Laura was bothered by the… the emotional outbursts she kept grumbling against.

It meant nothing more.

Inside her heart, though, Rogue still found no trust to give. Not to Laura, not to anybody. Not even to herself.

* * *

_Trust. The most important emotion, and the hardest to regain._

* * *

If you've enjoyed the chapter, please leave a review. Just let me know what you liked and disliked so I can keep improving my writing skills. Thank you.


	6. Request

Disclaimer: I don't own any characters except my characters. Which are quite a few this time around. Let's try it this way: I don't own any Marvel characters that happen to show up in the upcoming chapters and which I'm sure you'll recognise without any need to name long lists. I also do not own Jenny, which Dizi created a few years back and which is a fabulous character. I strongly recommend you read her adventures with Wolverine and the X-Men.

* * *

Sorry for the late update. I was without Internet connection yesterday.

* * *

**6\. Request**

It was barely nine in the morning and Scott was already on his third coffee. He'd been the first up, that morning, though mostly because he'd been worried and had gotten a sudden case of insomnia at five in the morning. By seven thirty, though, everyone else had joined the herculean task. Well, everyone but Kurt. He was set to take Zelig to school and bring the application papers for Lilia. He should be back any minute now.

They were down to four couriers in the New York metropolitan area, but Scott was hopeful they'd find a few more before the day was over. Ideally, the group would have an early night and get up before sunrise to…

"I'm sorry."

Scott's coffee threatened to spill when he stopped suddenly as he was leaving the kitchen and glanced to the left, where Isabel stood with a determined expression.

"Can we talk, please? In private."

This was probably because of the school thing, the day before. It had really been his fault. He should have thought of talking to Isabel immediately, but it had slipped his mind.

"Sure, uh…"

He looked around then led the way to the den. For some strange reason, he felt more comfortable discussing things with Creed, even if he was the sociopathic murderer, not her.

"Let me start by apologising for not talking to you yesterday," he said as he put the mug down on the table, but then stopped when the woman shook her head.

"I need to talk wid you about Lilia, and is not because of de school."

He nodded and suggested they both sat down. She preferred to stand, though, and he followed suit.

"I know dat no one had de intention of do anything to upset Lilia. Dat everything dat happened wid… you know. Was all a big accident and… was an accident."

He nodded.

"But de truth is dat, when we came to New York, Lilia's life changed completely. Too much, I think. I was hoping dat you and I, we could talk and find a way to make her life a little more like it was before."

"What do you have in mind?"

"De biggest difference is…" She hesitated and Scott had the distinct impression she was rallying the courage to do something she didn't really want. "We were a family, in Canada. A united family. And here is like… like she lives in a… a divorced family? You understand what I'm saying, right?"

He nodded once, slowly. What was she trying to get at?

"You're having meals together as a family. What else do you have in mind?"

She held her breath. She literally held her breath before him.

"I think she needs to see her Mamma and her Pappa togeder."

He nodded once again, perhaps more slowly than before. He wasn't sure he knew what she was driving at.

"I'm afraid we all have our hands full right now, but I suppose that, once there's more time, you and Creed could…" Do what? "Do family activities the way you used to in Canada."

She hesitated, then nodded.

"Yes, I suppose dat is a good idea. But I was thinking more about… we lived togeder. Lilia saw us live togeder in Canada. And, here, we don't live togeder."

She paused, clearly hoping he understood what she meant. He'd rather she said it herself to avoid any misunderstandigs though, so he just gazed back patiently.

"We don't… share a room, like we shared in Canada."

Scott understood what she meant. It was also very clear she was forcing herself to make this request.

"I think those family activities are a fantastic idea," he answered. "What kind of activites were you thinking exactly? Board games, ball games…? You know, Creed was talking about buying Lilia a bicycle. Cycling sounds like a great family activity, wouldn't you say?"

She let out a long sigh and looked away, nodded weakly. That was relief, he supposed.

"Anoder thing is her room. Lilia sleeps in her own room since she's a baby. Is a… big girl thing. Here, she sleeps wid me like a baby. I think dat Lilia should have her own bedroom. Is better for her self-esteem and her autonomy."

Scott grimaced.

"The rule is for young children to share a room with their parents. You see, it's very easy for a child to sneak out and this is a big building. She could go somewhere she shouldn't go and no one would notice till it was too late."

From her expression, Isabel hadn't thought about it.

"Locking her room would prevent the sneaking out, but, being locked alone really isn't…"

"No, no," Isabel shook her head decidedly. "Dat is not an option!"

Well, then that was it. Scott picked up his mug to leave but Isabel mumbled that Victor would be able to tell if she sneaked out. He put the mug down again.

"Creed has his own quarters and they are _not_ in the dormitory wings."

For the first time, she looked him in the eye, and there was not the slightest hesitation, the slightest apprehension.

"Lilia needs her own room," she said coldly. "And we two need to find a way to make dat happen, one way or de oder."

This boldness was very uncharacteristic for the woman.

"Creed stays where he is."

"Why?" She shot immediately. "You afraid he is going to run away? Hurt his baby girl? You let him sleep in de bedroom wid Lilia before. What's so different now? Why can't he sleep wid her again?"

Was it him, or was Isabel taking herself out of the picture?

"Are you sure that is what Lilia needs? To share a room with her father rather than her mother?"

She hesitated then nodded decidedly.

"If helps, den dat is what she needs."

This didn't sound right. To him, the natural thing was to strengthen the bond between mother and daughter and it seemed to him that what she was proposing would have the opposite effect. He was no expert, though.

"Look, we have a lot to do and too little time to do it. Do we mind if we finish this conversation later on?"

She nodded, unhappy, and Scott hurried out. He didn't go to the underground meeting room where everyone was working, though. He hurried to his own office and closed the door before phoning Emma.

"Scott! I was just thinking about you."

"I miss you too, but I'm afraid I don't have much time right now."

"Well, _you_ called me," she laughed.

"Yes, I know, I need your opinion. Isabel asked me to swap places with Creed." Emma let out a uh-huh that sounded like 'I'm not following' and he shook his head. "She said Lilia needs to have her own room to boost her self-esteem since she apparently thinks babies sleep with their parents and she's a big girl."

"Ok. But she'd have to be locked in the room, Scott. We can't have a five-year-old roaming the Institute at night!"

"Yes, I know, and obviously that is not going to happen, the girl being locked in a room, I mean. So then Isabel said Creed is the one who should be sharing the room with the girl."

Scott frowned at the knock on the door but quickly signalled Hank to get closer when he peeked inside.

"I told you," Scott could picture her shaking her head as she spoke. "When Logan sprang Creed out and they both went missing for a week, I told you that the child would go back to demanding dear daddy every minute of the day. That is why Isabel wants the room exchange, isn't it? The big bad nightmares are back! God, I have no patience for these childish dramas."

He hadn't thought of that.

"Hank's here. I'm going to put us on loudspeaker."

Scott quickly explained the situation and admitted he hadn't asked Isabel if the girl was having nightmares.

"She did throw a tantrum yesterday morning and I ended up letting her stay through a meeting but…"

"I am certain Creed would have informed us promptly if he was aware of reincinding nightmares," Hank pointed out.

"Or he might have simply talked to the child to calm her," Emma retorted. "Have you checked his phone?"

"You know I don't like doing that," Scott grumbled.

They could simply ask Creed… With a grimace, Scott got his phone and remotely accessed Creed's.

"There's no incoming or outgoing phone calls since Saturday and the last texts are from when we were in Madrid." He skimmed quickly. "No references to nightmares anywhere."

He put his phone away a bit awkwardly. He rarely accessed the man's phone remotely and, since there was never anything indicating foul play, he always ended up feeling like he was invading the man's privacy unnecessarily. Especially because he was invading his privacy and it was obviously unnecessary.

"If there are no nightmares and, despite an expected setback, the child isn't in dire need of having daddy holding her hand, why is Isabel talking about swapping rooms? That never came up before when the nightmares were still a thing."

Emma was right, it didn't add up.

"Perhaps the issue lies not with the child, but with the mother," Hank said thoughtfully. "I do not believe she is recovering from the mental attack she suffered. In fact, she may be struggling – and failing – to overcome the trauma, especially as it accumulates with the previous unresolved trauma of her abrupt miscarriage."

Yes, and Creed's way of fixing the problem – killing a man and bringing back a proof of death trophy – was more likely to have worsened her mental condition.

"Could it be that Isabel wishes to procure some privacy in order to ponder the incident?"

"If you mean she's spiralling into a depression because of the mind violation," Emma sighed, "then shutting herself alone and disconnecting from her daughter is likely going to add some speed to the downward process. Personally, I don't advise it."

"Do you really have to lay all that scorn when we talk about her, Emma?"

"Oh, Scott, spare me! She doesn't like me, I don't like her, and we both show it. Let's focus on what matters: if dear Mrs Sabretooth is plunging into depression, then helping her to further isolate herself is the obviously wrong step. Convince her to see a therapist. I hear Kitty saw one in Chicago. Perhaps they can Skype!"

Yeah, sure.

"It pains me to say it is highly unlikely Isabel will admit to being in need of any type of assistance. She has refused to meet me over the last four days, claiming she is in good health and the wounds are nearly healed, therefore seeing no need for a medical examination."

Hank shook his head.

"Her prompt reply is always, and I quote: 'I am fine'. Which, obviously, she is not. The last time I pressed the issue she informed me I was not her doctor and, therefore, I should not expect her to come to me unless she was in dire need."

That was not a good sign. Since Jenny had been the only person to get her to start eating and behave, after the miscarriage, perhaps they could have her come in and talk some more sense into her.

"Did she at least give you permission to test her blood so you could be better prepared next time she tries to bleed herself to death?" Emma asked.

Hank breathed out tersely and said 'no'.

"She will not allow testings of Lilia's blood either," he added.

"I _said_ you should have gone ahead, Henry," Emma sighed impatiently. "That woman is suspicious of everyone: there is nothing you can do to get her to trust you. You should have run the tests while you had the chance."

Scott shook his head.

"She started out by asking to share a room with Creed," he said. "Claimed that Lilia is reacting badly because she's gone from seeing her parents living together like a married couple to living apart like a divorced couple."

"She may be right on that point," Emma conceded. "Children of divorced parents sometimes reject the parent who is their guardian in favour of the more distant parent. I understand they feel the distant parent is being unfairly kept away."

Scott frowned.

"Are you telling me we should allow them to share…"

"I definitely oppose such a suggestion!" Hank interrupted. "You should have heard Creed whenever I asked him what he wished to converse with Isabel. He will do nothing but recriminate her for the miscarriage and, furthermore, I do not think he'll value her psychological distress. He is far more likely to either dismiss it or shame her for it."

That was Scott's impression, too. He might be upset and protective where her physical well-being was concerned – no questions there – but her psychological well-being… that was another story completely.

"Oh, don't be so melodramatic, Henry!" Emma scoffed. "If he is so understanding about his little devil's traumas and nightmares, surely he won't be that bad with 'his woman'."

"Perhaps. But I would rather not risk it. He is a feral and, therefore, his instinctive mellowness towards the child may not adequately reflect his attitudes towards Isabel. Even if he does harbour some semblance of finer feelings for her – as you yourself suspect – that is still no assurance that he has enough emotional maturity to interact with her while exerting the understanding and kindness she requires."

"Ok," Scott said. "We should go back to our research, Hank. Emma, could you talk to the Academy's resident therapist? Just to have a second opinion on this."

"Of course. I'll call you later."

Scott sighed and looked at Hank.

"Did you have something to tell me?"

"Ah, yes! Kurt has arrived with the application documents and Ms Hill has agreed to meet the Creed-Kredall family on Wednesday morning. I believe it'll be more productive if the head of the X-Men is the one who requests Jubilee's presence at the said meeting."

Scott got up with a groan and said he'd call her from the underground meeting room.

"Has anyone spotted any more couriers?"

Hank shook his head and added they were having a much needed break at the moment. He wasn't joking: the room was nearly deserted, Kurt, Creed and Kitty being the only ones inside. Kitty was spending her break at the computer, though, which didn't seem like the best activity for a break. Creed was filling in forms while Kurt watched over his shoulder.

"Ms Hill will be asking you questions based on the form," he said suddenly. "And she can sense lies."

"I ain't gonna lie, boy," Creed grunted. "I just ain't gonna tell all the truth."

He didn't even bother to look up as Scott came closer and glanced at the documents. Plenty of the entries had been filled in with an unexpectedly tidy penmanship. It was almost fancy, with a slightly old-fashioned touch to it. Full names, addresses, IDs, who lived with who, family members, languages spoken… How many pages did the document have?

"You just wrote 'married' in your marital status!"

Scott frowned and looked at that particular entry.

"That's 'cause I am."

He was what?

"Well, not me exactly, but my alias Victor Creed-Kredall _is_ married." Creed frowned suddenly. "Ya didn't tell the woman Isabel and I ain't married, did ya?"

Kurt shook his head.

"We didn't mention any details."

"Ok, let's get somethin' straight here: I went through a hell of a lot o' work ta get Isabel an' my girl a perfect cover story. So sit down an' get the followin' details right just in case someone decides ta ask ya whatever. First off: I am Canadian-Spanish. I was born an' raised in Spain by Canadian parents and worked mostly in Europe till I decided ta move back t'Canada. Second: Isabel is Portuguese. She was born an' raised in Portugal, then her parents moved to Canada fer a few years while leavin' her back in her home country, an' she travelled to an' fro fer some time, which also explains why she ain't half as fluent as she should be. Third: Lilia Victoria is Portuguese-Canadian: she was born in Portugal but she's been livin' in Canada since she was a baby. Do _not_ get this wrong, got it?"

"That's convoluted," Scott said.

"I wasn't aimin' fer simple," Creed spared him a sideways glance. "I was aimin' ta have a good cover story with real papers ta go with it. I managed ta get Isabel's whole life documented. Every single paper she's got is official, not fake. An' the same fer Lilia. There's no one gonna come in an' find out that Isabel de Fátima only came into existance less than seven years ago. So, again, don't mess it up."

"Canadian-Spanish," Scott shook his head. "I'll keep that in mind. I was just surprised you've willingly tied the knot."

"Which part o' 'cover story' don't ya get, boy?" The guy grunted, going back to filling the forms. "Ya know, if there's somethin' I learnt from Raven, it was how ta make a convincin' cover. First rule: choose stuff that's as unlike ya as possible. Second rule: make it credible."

Well, Scott himself had had a longer break than antecipated, so he might as well sit down and start working. He got one of the folders and sat down at the exact same time Creed stopped writing and frowned at Kurt.

"Ya're catholic, ain't ya? Well, if anyone asks, so are we."

"You're catholic?" Kurt asked, as surprised as Scott himself felt.

"Why the hell do they need two whole pages fer a kid's medical history?" He grunted before looking up again. "And no, _I_ ain't catholic. My _alias _Kredall is. Converted and went through that whole chrisma crap in order ta have a proper catholic wedding back in Portugal. Cover story, remember?"

"It's still a lie," Kurt said with a frown. "Ms Hill will see through it."

Creed straightened up.

"I am Victor Creed-Kredall and I did go through a fuckin' conversion in order ta have a catholic wedding. That ain't no lie. What are her powers anyway?"

"She is a low-class telepath and average strength empath. She can sense your feelings and, if you are focused on something, she can tell what you're thinking about; but she can't actually hear your thoughts."

Scott started going through the first person in the folder and stiffled a yawn.

"Social history o' the child's family? What's that even supposed ta be?"

"Can you do that outside?" Scott dropped the folder. "The constant talking is distracting."

"It's a detailed account of your health history and general background," Kurt answered, neither men giving signs of having heard Scott. "Listen, the philosophy of this school is inclusion. Ms Hill cannot sense the slightest bit of prejudice whatsoever coming from you. Whether it's about religion, xenophoby, the LBT community. _Nothing_ whatsoever."

Good thing Creed had mental barriers, Scott scoffed to himself.

"No worries there, boy. I ain't ever discriminated my vics in any way."

Scott looked up with a frown and even Kitty turned back to glare at him.

"What? I was jokin'. Lighten up!"

Scott gave up the folders and leaned on the table.

"Are you sure? Because, as far as I know, you do discriminate. Against baseline humans."

Creed glared at him with a growl.

"If I discriminate 'gainst anyone, it's weaklings, an' most baseline humans happen ta be weaklings. It's a fact. But, again, I don't right out discrimate anyone based on them bein' human. I've met quite a few with a healthy predator mind."

And to think Isabel wanted to move in with the asshole!

"Just 'cause I worked fer Mr Sinister an' fer Mutant Brotherhoods, it don't mean I subscribe to their ideals. Most o' the guys on the payroll just yap it out ta make sure the pay keeps comin'."

Scott had heard enough of this.

"Kurt, can you _please_ take him upstairs while he finishes those forms? I need to focus on the files."

* * *

Scott took a pill for the splitting headache that had slowed him down during the day's work then sat down in his office. He'd asked both Hank and Kitty to be there, since he was her doctor and she was her friend.

"I've just talked to Emma. The Academy's therapist agrees that it isn't in the girl's best interest to separate her from the mother and give preference to the father. However, she did advise that Lilia should spend as much time with Creed as she needs, preferrably in activities that join both parents."

"That does not alter the situations straining Isabel," Hank pointed out heatedly. "Firstly, the bond between mother and child will not be salvaged if we focus our efforts only on one of the affected parties, namely, the child. Secondly, she must feel safe to discuss the trauma of her abduction and mind violation. Keeping in mind she has previously experienced telepathic torture, the mental and emotional strain she's under must be significant! We must provide her with an environment where she can feel sufficiently safe and empowered to discuss her pain in order to overcome it."

And what was Scott supposed to do? He looked at Kitty, hoping she might say something within his power to arrange.

"You know," she said quietly. "Isabel was actually very… spontaneous, when we went shopping. Not on that girls' night out, but during the shopping, yes, she was…"

She hesitated. At any rate, it was nothing Scott was particularly interested in right now. His focus was the twins, not Isabel. If it was something within his power, fine, but fixing head-over-feet fixations was definitely off the table right now.

"What?" Hank probed.

"She was the most cheerful when Jubilee started that whole thing of sending Creed photos and then he started texting back. So maybe it wasn't so much the outing as the… being in contact with him?"

"It only proves that the degree of distrust she feels towards us is so high that Creed remains the person she feels the safest with!" Hank blurted out, getting up with irritation. "Creed, who is nothing but rude, aggressive and comandeering towards her! We must find a way to offer Isabel an alternative that will empower her, diminish the dependency she feels towards him!"

Right. Finding Mystique and the missing children within one to two weeks was going to need a near-miracle, and he was supposed to worry about the actual miracle of making a traumatised woman get over her obssession with the murderous father of her child? Scott breathed out. The headache was not improving and he didn't want to spend more time on this.

"Kitty, you're a friend of hers. Can you please explain to her that it's not a good idea to have this separation?" The young woman's glare didn't have the power to affect him. "I'm sure she'll take the news better coming from you. In the very least, you can offer friendly support, which I definitely can't! Tell her they can have all the family outings they want – within reason, obviously – but changing rooms is not an option."

Kitty got up with a grumbled fine, but Hank stopped her with a thoughtful 'Katherine'.

"From your evaluation – concerning her ease and happiness in your shopping outing – would you say Isabel's sense of worth and happiness is dependent on Creed?"

Hadn't Hank vented that same opinion just now? Taking a deep breath, Kitty sat down and thought it over.

"I don't know. When we went to the club, the other night, I got the impression she didn't feel very safe. And then when we were having lunch and Creed kept texting, she said something… I don't remember her exact words, but maybe she just doesn't feel safe on her own and she sees him as her protector. I mean, we have to keep in mind she was tortured. That kind of thing leaves sequels. And then she got kidnapped and tortured _again_ under our watch. I'm not sure anyone can blame her for feeling insecure. Personally, if Creed was the one who was there to save her both times, I can't even blame her for thinking of him as her knight in shining armor!"

Hank nodded.

"I concur with your analysis. I believe the most expeditious approach is to help her develop a sense of self-reliance and self-respect that will, in time, diminish the strength of her dependence on Creed."

Yes, he'd already said that and everyone already knew they were talking miracles. They should have had Kurt join the meeting, Scott almost chuckled to himself. He was the religious one, after all. He got up with a harsh sigh and walked around his desk.

"And how exactly do you suggest doing that?" Kitty asked Hank.

Scott pointed out they should get going but both Kitty and Hank ignored him .

"I shall consider the best method – or methods. Can I count on you to help implement any strategies that merit undertaking, Katherine?"

"You better talk to Isabel before she takes the girl to bed," Scott grumbled, finally getting the two to get up. "And Hank, whatever it is you're cooking up, it won't mean putting her in close quarters with Creed, will it?"

"No, of course not!"

Good.

"Then let's focus on what's essential right now. Kitty, talk to Isabel and go to bed. Tomorrow, you can go back to focusing on the Anonymous videos while we keep on…"

"No," she interrupted. "That was something I wanted to talk to you about. It doesn't make any sense for you to go manually through all that. I mean, you'll take ages just separating couriers from the rest and then, when we need to look at some other variable, we'll still have to go through it all one by one. I'll keep on making the conversion of the raw data into the app I developped. It takes a bit longer, yes, but afterwards we'll simply have to run a filter and we'll have every name we may want to investigate. So, if you don't mind, you guys can go through the videos after the raid and I hope to have it all done by… hopefully, by Wednesday or Thursday."

"Ok, I guess it makes sense," Scott nodded. "Hank, let's meet the others and coordinate tomorrow's raids."

* * *

If you've enjoyed the chapter, please leave a review. Just let me know what you liked and disliked so I can keep improving my writing skills. Thank you.


	7. Cards

Disclaimer: I don't own any characters except my characters. Which are quite a few this time around. Let's try it this way: I don't own any Marvel characters that happen to show up in the upcoming chapters and which I'm sure you'll recognise without any need to name long lists. I also do not own Jenny, which Dizi created a few years back and which is a fabulous character. I strongly recommend you read her adventures with Wolverine and the X-Men.

* * *

**7\. Cards**

The club was immersed in the light-heartedness of upbeat jazz, laughter bubbling up carefree around them. The group of men sailed past the large well-lit room following a young woman wearing an old-fashioned bow over fashionably bared shoulders. She led them through a passage covered by a heavy dark blue drape and they sank into a dark corridor, the sound of cheer muffled by the drapery.

It was a short corridor and soon they were welcomed into an unpretentious room. The playing table was well lit, but the edges of the room lay quietly in the shadows. There was nothing that could distract the group from their objective.

"Gentlemen," the woman motioned them towards the chairs.

Each place had a card with the name of the player – or his alias, as preferred. Next to each chair, there was a velvet covered stool where briefcases rested, equally identified with the players' names.

The woman occupied her position by a table with drinks and stood still while the male croupier stepped up.

In silence, the seven men sat down and the croupier started dealing.

Gambit opened the case with his name. The money and jewllery he had handed over when signing up for the game had been duly exchanged by chips, unevenly divided between him and Dan. Well over one million dollars. The idea of losing it all without even a chance of getting it back would have made him sick five days ago. Tonight, though, what made him sick was the idea that it might not be enough.

* * *

Dan Down begged fervently through the game, but the cards, they were capricious as ever. Les pauvres petites, he would mumble to them, les pauvres pappa et mamman. Yet they laughed, it seemed.

Dan did not spend money on any hands that were not good enough, but when he managed to get four queens and raised the stakes before folding, they finally relented.

They are not in any danger, they giggled, uncaring.

But where? Where?

A new hand was dealt, the pot grew.

"Where?" Dan mumbled.

The queen of spades separated the king and queen of hearts and Dan glanced at Remy LeBeau. He had sweat droplets on his forehead. The old man shook his head weakly at the cards. Pauvre homme! Not only had he lost his children, he had lost the woman he loved too.

"Wicked and heartless," he mumbled.

Oh, she is, she is! The cards laughed. She will be.

The $130,000 lost in a single hand, after having lost over $600,000, made Dan's hands shake. He had never in his life played with such amounts of money… and never had the capricious ladies in his hands been so uncaring, giving him so little.

"What else d'ya want?" He hissed.

A few of the other players frowned his way, and he lowered his voice, chastisised them in a heartbroken whisper.

"Leave the homme," Remy snapped with uncharacteristic aggression, making a raise. "If he talks ta his cards fer luck, what's it ta you all, eh?"

It is nothing to him, the cards sneered spitefully. Nothing at all!

Dan was so taken aback that he had to be reminded it was his turn.

"Fold," he sat back.

"Dan?" Remy asked fearfully.

He shook his head.

"C'est bien, c'est bien. Next round."

But what was the point? If the cards believed all this money was no sacrifice at all… What sacrifice could they want?

For the first time, Dan looked at the players. Watched their little quirks, their rituals. He glanced at the cards Remy was holding. He could hear their distaste.

The cards, they were not pleased with the money. But what could the homme sacrifice that would satisfy them. Money meant nothing… Of course not! This was his children! What kind of man would value money more than his own flesh and blood?

"What d'ya want?!" He hissed.

For a moment, everyone in the room looked at him but then the game continued. Remy, however, was now holding his cards more harshly, his jaws clenched.

"Please," he begged when the new cards were dealt. "Tell me."

The ace of hearts was his first card. The other four were all hearts, too.

"He has already lost everything he holds dear ta his heart," Dan closed his eyes, mouthing the words as if it were a prayer. "He has nothing else precious enough ta give ya!"

They snickered and sneered, offended it seemed. He folded.

"Alors?" Remy leaned to him, having also folded.

"They do not want yer money," Dan admitted, even as it occurred to him that none of that money was his.

With a curse, Remy got up and the whole room once more froze.

"Sir," the young woman left her position by the drinks and came closer, "is there anything I can bring you?"

"Laisse-moi!" He almost barked, then left the room.

Dan's heart sunk. He looked at his cards.

"Le Monsieur has retired," the courtier said calmly. "If no one else wishes to do so, we shall continue."

Dan looked at the case with the chips. None of that money was his, either. The cards, they wanted something meaningful. But what could he give that was meaningful at this point? The money, it had been pledged when their names had been signed up. There were to be no changes afterwards. Even the unused chips in Remy's case, even those were lost despite not having been gambled away. The house would keep the pledged money if the players did not show up or abandoned the game halfway.

As if he had nothing else that is precious, the offended cards insisted on the table.

Dan got up and the woman approached immediately.

"The restroom," he said loud enough for the croupier to hear.

The lady nodded and led him to a side door. Inside, he faced the urinal and sighed.

There was nothing he could sacrifice to the cards directly… He looked at his old wedding ring and hesitated. He had never had children, Dan hadn't. But what is a cold ring when talking about two young children whisked away by a heartless woman who wished to use them like weapons, some time in the future? For Remy had told him who the woman was, what her plans usually meant. Perhaps the cards, they were right that the children were not in danger now, but in the future? Hadn't Remy said that this woman had tried to kill her own foster-daughter? Had exposed her own newborn to die?

Dan Down returned to the room and waited as the other men finished the round.

Sitting on that chair, his hands on his lap, he toyed with the ring but did not slid it out.

What is a ring, after all? A memory? Memories are inside one's heart and mind, not cold metal rings.

Slowly, he slid it out. It felt naked and empty, the finger. Slowly, he placed the ring inside the case of chips. Slowly, he collected a number of those chips and placed them in front of him, on the table. One by one. The croupier frowned slightly his way.

"For the next hand," he said hoarsely.

He did not beg the cards for an answer when the croupier dealt the new hand. The ring that had never left his finger was supplication enough. Yet, his heart faltered as he looked at the back of the five cards, quietly ahead of him. If they still did not speak to him…

"Sir?"

He looked up. The other players had placed their bets, it seemed. Looking at the blue pattern, he hesitated.

"You have yer sacrifice," he said out loud.

Then he turned the cards, one by one. Spread on the table, he saw the four jacks and the ace of spades.

Dan Down got up from the chair feeling old and weary, empty.

"Sir?"

"Fold," he said hoarsely.

* * *

Gambit had learnt from a young age not to cry, but he had done it, on occasion. When the enormity of his actions in the Morlock tunnels had hit him, for example. He had cried like an enfant that day. When Rogue had left him to die in Antactica, on the other hand, he had not let out a tear. Nevertheless, months later, when reliving those moments, he had shed them.

He had never cried as much as during those months he'd spent in New Orleans, though, getting drunk and taking small time gigs. Crying himself to sleep after finishing yet another bottle of alcohol. Those had been the most stupid, shameful tears any person could have ever shed and he hated himself for it all. In a way, those months were more degrading to him than all the awful things he'd ever done for Mr Sinister. More shameful even than his part in the Morlock Massacre.

Tonight, the silent tears brought him no shame.

They were tears of impotence.

No matter how much power he might have, how incredibly skilled he might be, he still had no way to find his children. He had tried his hand and failed.

The only thing left to do was… Mon dieu! It was to… to…

Maybe he'd go back to Tante Marie. Mountains and sea, she had said. No, not sea; water. He'd get the old woman and drag her through the coast of every continent in this world till she told him which was the place she'd seen in her visions. What else could he do?

"Remy."

With thievish dexterity, he wiped the tears and hid the sniff under the noise of slapping his legs before turning to face the old man.

"Merci," he said, then cleared his throat to make his voice sound normal and noticed the man's gloominess. "C'est bien, Dan. Remy, he t'ank you fer all ya done. Ya tr…"

"Find the shifting man," Dan interrupted him. "He is close t' the top and he knows where she is."

Remy took a step back, not understanding.

"But ya said…"

"The money was not yers," Dan explained. "It was not yer sacrifice but yer victims'. I don't know, honestly, I don't know what the cards wanted ya ta gamble away that was precious enough ta match the information ya needed, but…"

Gambit hugged the man in a thoughtless impulse.

"I don' know what ya gave 'em," he said, choking against his will. "But I will be in yer debt fer the rest o' my life."

He undid the embrace but held on the man by his shoulders.

"Remy knows who de shiftin' man is."

And the kidnappers, the couriers… while they would have no idea of where Mystique had headed, they would probably know enough to help him find the nervous little man.

"Once I find 'im…"

Remy embraced the old man once more, not noticing his weariness.

* * *

If you've enjoyed the chapter, please leave a review. Just let me know what you liked and disliked so I can keep improving my writing skills. Thank you.


	8. The Raid

Disclaimer: I don't own any characters except my characters. Which are quite a few this time around. Let's try it this way: I don't own any Marvel characters that happen to show up in the upcoming chapters and which I'm sure you'll recognise without any need to name long lists. I also do not own Jenny, which Dizi created a few years back and which is a fabulous character. I strongly recommend you read her adventures with Wolverine and the X-Men.

* * *

**8\. The Raid**

It wasn't yet five in the morning when Tigard and Cyclops parked on a road a few feet from Harry Tyler's house. It wasn't a large home but it seemed smaller because of the garage at its side. The structure had been rebuilt to be larger and wider. It had a plaque saying 'Moving Anywhere'. Although the man's business was moving furniture and appliances, he also transported large parcels for Desideria.

"Cyclops here. We're set."

Colossus and Iceman were also ready to break into Patricia Olwen's apartment, who transported small parcels, while Cannonball and Bishop were in position to question Robby Eastwood, who drove with Uber. From what they could tell, Robby boy did a lot of transporting for the thieving group. The Beast and Wolverine were the only ones who hadn't yet reached Adam Saleh's house. That one was a part-time cook at a diner and seemed to be a recent addition to Desideria's out-sourcing lists.

Those were the four couriers that they had managed to find amidst the 200+ files. Well, within the New York City area, that is. Adam Saleh lived in New Jersey, but it was close enough that he probably worked alongside the other three.

The joint breaking in and questioning was set to happen at 5 am, and there was still almost ten minutes to go, so Creed got out his phone and texted his Lil' Devil.

"What… Damn it, Tigard! The girl isn't even awake at this hour!"

"Which means she'll have a tonne o' messages waitin' fer her when she wakes up," he growled lightly. "An' she'll be real happy 'bout it all mornin' long."

"No wonder she's so obssessed with you," Cyclops grumbled. "Ya're constantly feeding h…"

"I don't fuckin' need no parentin' tips from the likes of you," Creed snarled, making an effort to keep his claws sheathed.

Being told off for texting and phoning his baby girl was annoyance enough, but hearing it from Saint Summers really pissed him off. With his history, he should be biting down his own tongue and letting Creed do whatever he decided was best for his girl.

_Pappa is listening to a blackbird_, he wrote in Portuguese.

_gambit contacted_

He erased that second message the moment it was sent.

_Can you go to the window?_

_myst is living between mt and water at vacation spot_, and he once more erased it.

_where_, Rogue's message blinked and he erased it immediately.

He had taken off the sound so nobody could notice when he got messages, but it still made him nervous. Especially as he tried to be on the phone in clear sight of the others. If they were to as much as imagine he was being furtive with the phone, who knows what those self-righteous asses would do!

_How many blackbirds can you hear?_

_owen nills knows exact location_

Gambit had contacted Piotr Rasputin during the night so Creed had only heard of it in the morning. Everyone was very excited about it, and that also included him. Let's face it: searching blindly for the shapeshifter was going to be a years long endeavour if they didn't get any juicy tips to help. He had avoided mentioning that particular reality to Rogue, but… yeah. The sooner the blue mutant was found and thoroughly killed, the better for him, so he would be happily excited over any useful intel they could get and he didn't care whether the others thought it out of character.

_What are you going to wear today?_

To be honest, he pitied any kid facing a tortuous upbringing in Raven's hands. That woman saw nothing but her own needs and, keeping in mind the scorn she'd shown against those kids fooling around in the park, back in Paris, he doubted she understood how fundamental it is for a child to be able to play freely in order to develop their mind and skills to their full potential.

_Ask mamma to make a cake for later, when Pappa gets back._

She'd be worse than a prison guard, restricting the kids' natural inclinations while forcing them to act more maturely than they were capable of. Just imagining what kind of punishments she might use to teach them to fear the slightest disobedience had him growling.

_Maybe we can have a picnic by the lake!_

A five minute picnic, probably, but it was better than nothing. Thinking about the kids made him miss every minute he spent away from his baby girl. He longed to crouch by her bed and watch over her sleep the way he'd done so many times, especially now that he was having these stupid dreams of Mystique targeting Tigard and his baby girl. That same night, he'd woken up with the blue mutant about to slash Isabel's throat! It was a huge effort on his part to act like nothing was amiss. If he hadn't received free reign to contact his woman and baby girl whenever he felt like, he didn't know how he'd dealt with it.

"Any news from Wolverine and the Beast?"

"Not yet," Cyclops grumbled.

Good. He still had time, then.

_Can you write all the numbers you know?_

_did you sleep well nesita_

He also deleted that message the moment it was sent. Not that he had any illusions about getting an honest answer. He knew she was not going to own to any nightmares no matter how many she might be plagued with. It was enfuriating!

_Show me your exercise book with all of them when I get back. Ok?_

_nightmares don't make you weak woman_

As if he was going to convince her! But at least she claimed she wasn't mad at the whole school mess anymore. He'd jumped at the opportunity and he'd completely forgotten that she still didn't want the girl going to school in the States. It wasn't that he wouldn't prefer to keep his Lil' Devil out of school that extra year, just like they'd planned, but she needed the distraction. Not to mention that, while in Creston, both he and Isabel had had more time to spend with her, making sure she was learning the letters and the numbers at an appropriate pace, expanding her horizons… Here, though, things were way too different.

He had explained his point of view on a couple of occasions, but then she'd refused to hear any of it while Mystique was at large and, sure, he wasn't about to press the issue at that point. Afterwards, she kept saying that it was too soon, that she wouldn't be able to sit still at a desk for so long, that once she started going to school in the States it would be more difficult to cut the cord and return to Creston.

Because, once Desideria was taken care of, they'd have to jump at the slightest opportunity to get out of New York and return to Creston. That had been his promise to her, one year in New York and then head back home.

Sometimes, he regretted making promises altogether.

"Wolverine here. We're in position."

Creed quickly put his phone way.

"I'm ready," he told Cyclops to make him see that, unlike what everyone said, the phone was not a blasted distraction.

"Ok, everyone," Cyclops said. "Remember that these people have no idea they are working for a criminal association. I want no threats, no force, no property damage, got it? Let's do this."

* * *

_DO NOT TEXT ME UNLESS I GIVE THE OK_, Creed texted Rogue in response to a text she'd sent during the damned interrogation of the couriers.

All secret texts must happen in between messages to his baby girl. If anyone were to accidentally – or purposefully – check his phone, he couldn't have anything incriminatory.

_or u want everyone to know im helping u_

"Tigard, Jubilee's here," Bishop hissed. "Put that away already!"

The way everyone was always nagging him, it helped to leave the secret contacts to coincide with the moments his Lil' Devil was on the phone. That way he had a valid excuse to be on the thing and they couldn't force him to put the phone away unless there was actual action about to happen.

Having the girl at school was going to be a godsend because he'd be able to focus on pulling his weight with all the paper filing and video watching they had to do, but it would also mean less time to be on the phone. And being on the phone with his baby girl, meant being on the phone with his Nesi. Especially as she'd stopped answering his calls at night. She claimed she couldn't sleep if he was contacting her at night to chat about nothing, the stubborn devil. She knew damned well that all he could do to comfort her was talking to her, hoping his voice was enough to make her feel safe and sooth away the pain of the nightmares. And she refused him as if she didn't need it!

It really riled him up! If it hadn't been for the shool mess, he'd have pressed the issue more seriously. But she claimed it was ok, that she also agreed the girl should start school, she wasn't mad. And then 'I already said no more night calls'. Did she think he couldn't tell what passive-aggressive looked like?

_we can still leave ny despite the school_, he sent and deleted before putting the phone away.

He really needed some time alone with the woman to set everything straight. Half an hour! She'd blame him for whatever, then he'd say he was sorry, promise their get-away from New York wouldn't be undermined by the girl's school and… Who was he kidding? Half an hour wouldn't make her feel safe and if she thought of asking about his plan to high-tail out of there the moment Desideria wasn't a threat anymore… Telling her the plan had been to play it by ear from the start would go really well, wouldn't it?

"Tigard!"

"Yeah, yeah! I'm goin'."

Jubilation Lee and one of her SPAD agents was walking ahead with Cyclops and Beast.

"Where are ya goin'?" Wolverine grumbled behind him. "This way."

He was confused for a moment, but he followed the order nonetheless.

"Didn't ya hear the man?" The runt growled. "Start sniffin' around fer anythin' suspicious."

Nope, he hadn't heard the man. Too busy thinking about the mess his life had become. Those five years he'd lived in Creston had been the simplest, quietest, most relaxing years of his life! Before, it had been a chaos he'd enjoyed, and now it was a chaos that just… Oh, focus, already! The sooner Desideria was crippled for good and Mystique was dead, the sooner he could start worrying about how to get his family back to Canada. One thing at a time.

The distribution center was a medium-sized warehouse sitting between the Long Island City Train Station and Newtown Creek. Wolverine and Tigard covered the area in less than one hour then joined the rest of the group. There were no people being smuggled in, and no drugs, either. The workers looked suspicious but no one smelled apprehensive enough to merit their attention. They probably had no idea there were stolen goods being traficked in the place.

When both Logan and Tigard entered the office, Jubilation stood up, ready to leave. Creed walked towards the window that looked onto the creek and breathed deeply in on his way. He could easily smell the fear on the man behind the desk.

"I'll be expecting your call," Jubilation said in her cheery voice. "Or maybe I'll stop by again later today. It's as good an excuse as any to get out of the office."

But there was an older scent of fear unerneath it.

He walked up to the desk as the girl turned her back on the man and nearly banged her head on his chest. Ignoring the girl's 'hey, watch it', he sniffed, trying to break apart and distinguish the scents of the different people who'd sat there before.

"Get moving, Tigard," she snapped. "Or what? Did I step on some poop or something?"

"Nope," he grumbled, pushing her aside and sniffing again. "Sat on it."

Satisfied, he hurried out of the office.

"Whoa there, Mister," Jubilation grumbled after him as they left the warehouse. "What the hell was that all about! SPAD has higher authority in these joint shaking-ups so watch your tongue and show some respect, got it?"

She got side by side as they reached their vehicles and pointed out a finger that really got on his nerves.

"You may be used to being top dog and doing whatever the hell you feel like it, but, out here, you drop down the attitude and show proper respect for who calls the shots. Which is _me_!"

Deciding he better take the shit in silence, he crossed his arms and waited for her to finish.

"So don't you ever step up like that again and mouth off because it makes the whole thing look amateurish and – correct me if I'm wrong – but not even _you_ want these assholes thinking there's no control, or do you? 'Cause if that happens, th…"

"Ya're wastin' yer breath, darlin'," Wolverine sniggered. "He ain't properly house broken."

"That's just excuses!" She shot at the runt. "I thought _you guys_ had him informed on how things work. Why do I have to be the one doing all the corporate yapping all the time?"

She glared at him and ordered him into the FBI vehicle. Creed was about to growl at her when she turned to Cyclops and started grilling him on not having his 'agents' properly inducted and 'culturally aclimatised'. What the hell was that supposed to mean? He decided to just keep his mouth shut and got in the back of the SUV. Logan sat in the front with an annoyed sigh.

"_Pos-tur-ing_," she snapped back at him the moment she got behind the wheel and closed the door. "You know what that is, right? These smart asses that think they can do whatever, they need to be afraid of what SPAD can do to them. They see me surrounded by a bunch of powerful mutants acting oh-so-deferential, and oh-so-ready to obey my every command and they start shaking in their boots like the little pieces of shit they are. And if they start thinking that I'm a defenseless human dragging you about as my personal live-weapons, that's even better! Because they won't even dream I can cause any damage without my brawny mutant-aides and if they decide to act real stupid I can still surprise the lot and kick their asses. But if you start stepping on the toes of the SPAD rep in loco, they start thinking they can too. And it suits me to have them afraid of what I can have ordered done to them, instead of forcing my hand to teach them. That's a waste of time and we all have better things to do! Oh! There's another concept you should be familiar with! Bluffing. You do know what both posturing and bluffing mean, right? Are we speaking the same language here?"

He honestly tried not to growl at the little spitfire.

"Show due respect from now on," she hissed. "I don't give a damn how Cykes deals with you or what he lets you get away with or not, but when I'm present, you step back and act like I can royally fuck your ass. Got it?"

"Yes, Ma'am," he snarled.

"Good," she breathed out forcefully. "What the hell were you even _thinking_ to tell your hierarchical superior they sat on poop! Geez! As if I weren't surrounded by enough smart-ass morons at the FBI! I swear! One of these days, I'm gonna flip and do something I'm not going to regret!"

"Barnaby's buggin' ya again?" Logan asked casually.

"I wish! You want to know who my problem is, do you? You've got three guesses: Eric Norton. He is a _beeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeep_. God! If I was a feral, I'd go berserk and shred him to pieces at least once a week and I don't even have to work with him in person!"

Killing a sudden smirk, Creed hesitated between getting more details about the girl's FBI life and just plain aggravating her for the grilling. He didn't take long to decide.

"Yeah, well, I didn't mean no disrespect, ya know? It's just that ya really did sit on some poop."

"I _what_?!"

"A particularly stinky one by the name of Owen Nills."

"WHAT?!"

She braked suddenly and turned back to face him.

"Jubes, ya can't stop in the middle o' the trafic like this!"

"What did you just say?"

"Owen Nills sat on that same chair 'bout two days ago," he grinned smugly. "Maybe three. They don't have that many people comin' t'the office, so the scent didn't get rubbed off."

She turned to the front with a curse and resumed driving.

"Cyclops, Tigard just placed Owen Nills in that office two or three days ago. I suggest _again_ that you don't wait around for Greer and start locating every distribution center in the country. If there are too many around, I can have the best Initiative teams handpicked to assist you, _and_ make sure they are all very damn well aware the X-Men call the shots in this op from start to end, no buts, no shit. Hell, I can have the Avengers join the party! I can put together enough telepaths in stand by at key locations to reach Owen Nills, wherever he is apprehended, before anyone can fry his brains. We'll storm every blasted place simultaneously, get the info on Mystique's location _and_ put an end to Desideria in the States for good all in one sweeping go!"

Creed lost his smugness. He'd have to do something soon or the whole witch-hunt was going to backfire big time.

* * *

If you've enjoyed the chapter, please leave a review. Just let me know what you liked and disliked so I can keep improving my writing skills. Thank you.


	9. Timing

Disclaimer: I don't own any characters except my characters. Which are quite a few this time around. Let's try it this way: I don't own any Marvel characters that happen to show up in the upcoming chapters and which I'm sure you'll recognise without any need to name long lists. I also do not own Jenny, which Dizi created a few years back and which is a fabulous character. I strongly recommend you read her adventures with Wolverine and the X-Men.

* * *

I uploaded chapter 10 rather than 9 last weekend, and I apologise to you all. So here's the correction: morning raid on chapter 8, considerations on timings on the 9th, and a school meeting set for the next morning.

Thanks for reading!

* * *

**9\. Timing**

Peter stopped by Kitty's work station but she snapped at him with a frustrated 'can't you tell me the details later?'. He stood behind her chair for a moment, then turned to leave.

"Peter, wait. I…" she sighed. "I'm sorry about that but I have to be careful not to make mistakes, and distractions… distractions cause mistakes. I already caught a string of swapped information on a couple of fields and I'm just finishing going through it. I don't want to have to re-check this all again! I'm only a tenth in."

"It's ok; I understand," he came back and kissed the top of her head. "I'll tell you about it at lunch."

He didn't go to the meeting room, though. Instead, Peter headed to their bedroom and closed the door carefully. There was no need to lock it, as Kitty surely wouldn't be having a break within the next five minutes, but he locked it nonetheless. He'd almost been caught once, a month ago, and the idea of being forced to open up the game before he was ready gave him goosebumps. Still, he hadn't put an end to the habit of sneaking in and getting the little box from underneath his woolen sweaters.

Back in June, it had felt like the safest hiding place. Kitty would never even look at those drawers during summer. But it was now September, and every time he opened the drawer he felt time ticking away towards winter.

He opened the box and sighed.

"Size means nuthin'," Remy had told him back in June. "It's de cut dat matters."

The round diamond was tiny, at least to Peter's eyes, but it shone and glittered as if it were twice its size. It was barely wider than the platinum band where it was set in a halo, with no other stones to accompany it.

"Beauty, discretion an' durability," Remy had said. "Ya can't go wrong wit' it. It will fit 'er like a glove!"

It was true. The simple design suited his Katya's simplicity while at the same time hinting at the precious brightness of her soul.

"Alors, mon ami," Remy had laughed. "Love, he turned ya into a poet, non?"

Not really, no. If it had, Peter wouldn't have spent three months wondering what to say. But perhaps Remy was close the truth, after all.

Breathing out his frustration, Peter closed the box and put it back under the sweaters. The meeting should be starting any time now.

"Tell you straight, Peter," and Remy had looked serious, for once. "T'ink careful 'fore ya do it, ya hear? I ain't sayin' ya don' love 'er or she don' love ya, but ya look too nervous ta me. Don't ya go divin' inta somet'in' just 'cause ya t'ink ya hav'ta. 'Cause la petite, she said somet'in' or… You gotta be sure dat _you_ are ready fer it, c'est tout. Her bein' ready, it don' mean you are ready. Do ya understand what Remy be sayin'?"

The question all through summer had been if any one of them was ready. Unlike what Remy seemed to think, Kitty had said nothing that implied she might want to take this next step. But he had thought he was ready, all the way until he found himself inside the jewellery with the ring in his hand.

Peter entered the meeting room and sat next to Bishop.

"She isn't coming?" The man asked.

Peter shook his head, explained she still had so much to do, then asked if he was late.

"No, _Emma _is the one who's late. Had a sudden meeting with a parent, it seems."

Peter nodded.

Curiously, it had been Remy to make him feel he was ready for marriage. The night before, when the Cajun had phoned him in the middle of the night.

"You should talk to Scott," Peter had told him, but his friend hadn't wanted to.

"He'll ask Remy what he is t'inkin' 'bout doin' to de monsters who took mes petites and Remy… he don' know."

"And if you decide to…" there had been no need to finish the question.

"Mais… it be better l'homme don' know it 'fore time, eh?"

"Remy…"

"Non, non! Remy trusts you. You will not tell 'im I ain't yet sure ta let 'em live, vrais?"

No, of course Peter wouldn't tell. There was nothing to tell anyway! If he had been sure, bent on killing the culprits from the start, Peter would have talked to the other X-Men. Being unsure of himself meant only that he was suffering, torn between a pointless revenge and the right thing to do.

"I know you'll do what's right in the end."

"Dey are all I have left," he'd whispered before hanging up. "Anna… she will never forgive. Remy, he been t'inki' and he understands. She gave everyt'in' fer 'em an' dis hurt too much. C'est bien. I will find 'em. I'll bring' em back t' deir mamman. Deir safety is all dat matters, non?"

Remy and Anna Marie. Gambit and Rogue. All their lives together had been this constant swirling of peace and war, hate and love. Constantly getting together and never managing to stay by each other's side when the other most needed them. Sometimes Peter wondered if they didn't push the other away precisely when they most wanted to be loved and comforted.

He had looked at his Katya, so tired she hadn't even woken up with the phone, and he'd known he was ready. In fact, he had always been ready. The world could fall apart all around them and he'd still remain by her side. How could he have doubted his commitment to her?

The screen ahead blinked to life and startled him out of his thoughts and back to the present.

"I'm sorry about the delay," Emma Frost breathed out irritably. "Shall we start?"

"Logan went outside to…"

"He already knows what happened during this morning's events, Scott," she interrupted him. "There's no need to protract the meeting any longer. I'm sure Jubilee has plenty to do."

"Yeah," she piped from the desk where she was stitting. "Hank will be writing me a doctor's note to justify my morning's absence 'cause I didn't exactly got clearance from the big boss Barnaby to go off and threaten unsuspecting allegedly law-abiding citizens with having their professional and personal lives torn apart on suspicion of receiving stolen goods from overseas. I wouldn't want to see his face if he ever finds out about it."

"Jubilation, I do hope the FBI has taught you by now that reports should start at the beginning of the events, not _in media res_."

Peter once more zoned out as Scott started by sharing Gambit's information. He looked around the room, seeing the faces of his friends – and colleague, as Creed must now be seen – and yet not seeing them.

He knew, without any doubt, that he'd stand by his Katya's side like a rock, and he knew she felt the same about him. Must surely!

Tonight, he decided, he'd go down on one knee and would tell her that the situation with the twins had made him see how she was the only thing in his life that would always remain steadfast in a world of constant change, wavering between pain and happiness. He'd tell her that no matter what life threw at them, that he vowed to watch over her happiness for as long as they both lived. Together as one.

"Ya started already?" Logan grumbled, coming into the room and sitting on the only empty chair left, next to Peter. "Someone could'ave called me."

Peter chuckled. Well, if love hadn't made a poet out of him after all! A sense of relief and light-heartedness made him feel giddy with expectation. He could hardly wait!

* * *

"I've brought you lunch," Peter said when he entered the room where Kitty was slaving at the computer.

She jumped on her seat, startled, then frowned at the clock.

"Isn't it a little early? Let me just finish this part…"

He set the tray down and got a chair, enjoyed the expression of absolute concentration for nearly fifteen minutes.

"Ok. I think I got it done." She stretched then looked at him with a tired smile. "So, how was the meeting?"

"Unfinished," he shrugged. "Half the team wants to take down the entire Desideria group at the same time as getting the information about Mystique, and the other half wants to focus only on Mystique."

"Hmm." She said thoughtfully and adjusted her seat in front of the tray with a heavy dose of beef stewed with mushrooms, carrots and potatoes, the gravy thick and dark.

She took a forkful and hummed again.

"This is the tenderest meat I've ever eaten. It almost melts!"

"Yeah. Isabel let it cook all afternoon and evening, yesterday. At least that's what she told Jubilee when she asked for the recipe. It has to cook slowly for over ten hours."

Kitty laughed, saying the girl must have given up every idea of cooking it. Peter smiled as her face lit up. But he had to report the report…

"You'll have to come to the meeting tomorrow to join the voting. Scott said we had 24 hours to think it over and then the majority would decide."

She looked attentively at him as he recounted the events of the morning. How the couriers had given the address of the distribution center, how Jubilee had told the manager of the place that there were suspicions they were being used to distribute stolen goods and that she would rather speak to Mr Samuel Greer before shutting them down and tearing the place apart, though it wasn't essential.

"And did the manager recognise the name?" Kitty asked.

Peter nodded. Sam and Bishop had looked everywhere for the man and had come to the conclusion that Samuel Greer was an alias, though probably it was a professional one.

"He said Greer was out of the country and swore he would contact him immediately, set up a meeting. We haven't heard anything from him, though. Bobby and Hank stayed behind to keep an eye on the movement of the distribution center. Sam and Bishop are on their way to replace them. So far, it all seems business as usual and the manager hasn't left, either."

Kitty nodded and Peter continued.

"Jubilee and Scott then started explaining their plan of identifying every other distribution center and raiding them simultaneously. Of course that will mean both SPAD and the Initiative teams are going to give a hand, and then Creed said he thought it was too risky. If we failed to get our hands on Owen Nills during the raids, we'd never find him. He thinks it's better if we break into the distribution centers during the night, just to see if he can find the man's scent but without scaring the Desideria into tougher safety measures."

Kitty said it made sense.

"Yes, but Jubilee proposed to simply delay the simultaneous raid. First locate Nills, then grab him at the same time as the entire organisation."

"It also makes sense," she said.

"Creed insisted it doesn't. That for the raid to be successful we'll need to have detailed intel on everyone running the distribution centers, ideally locate other offices too. That we should first stake out the places and get a very clear picture of how everything works, who does what and goes where… He insists that we should focus solely on finding Nills, getting Mystique's location and saving the twins. Only afterwards should we focus on the actual organisation."

"Who agreed with him?"

"Emma and Kurt were the first to side with him. Jubilee and Scott sold very well the importance of taking the whole thing down as soon as possible. And it's true that the longer we wait, the more people are endangered by their kidnapping services, and also the more time they have to take measures to protect themselves and keep the heads of the organisation out of danger. Scott pointed out that some of the information Creed brought in, back in June, didn't help them precisely because the organisation altered their way of acting to adapt to Creed's attack. If we don't act now, a lot of the information we collected in France will become useless and we'll have to start from scratch. But Creed kept talking about the kids and… He's right. We can't risk their safety. Kurt thinks so too."

"So the others agree with Scott and Jubilee that we should take Mystique and the organisation at the same time."

"Sam and Bishop, yes. Logan was on their side, but then Creed got up and started saying how Mystique wouldn't be patient to wait for the children to mature in order to understand certain concepts. Said she would want them to act like older kids, capable of standing still and focus before they were developed enough to do so, and that she would punish them in order to get that behavior before time. Logan got swayed to his side when he went on about what strategies she might use, even if they don't involve spanking. Brainswashing and psychological warfare techniques, that's what he said she's likely to use."

Kitty grimaced and nodded.

"She never did raise a young child," she said. "Since she got rid of Kurt right after birth and Rogue was already old enough to look after herself when she took her in."

"There was Graydon," Peter pointed out.

"Yeah, but did she really raise him or did she drop him in the hands of an au-pair or something? If she was only with him for one or two hours a day, she has no experience on how to work with toddlers all day long. Toddlers are supposed to have tantrums daily or something… And do you remember how Jenny said she could do nothing all day long because Zelig required all her attention?"

Peter nodded and laughed that Kurt had had the advantage of having a tail to hold on to the then two-year-old. Anyway, Creed had mentioned the tantrums, too. The children had been very protected from birth, had never left the Academy, had met very few people. Being in a completely different environment, they'd feel insecure and that would naturally end up manifesting as tantrums. They'd be crying for their mommy and even if Mystique could take Anna's shape she wouldn't be able to mimic her patience, her nurturing little ways.

"Creed kept saying she does not have the patience to handle tantrums. That if she tries to pose as Anna, she'll only end up making the children afraid of their own mommy, because they'll see the one who has always protected them lose her patience and punish them. I think he's right. If we don't hurry, she's going to scar the twins for life." Peter smirked, unamused. "You should have seen him! He was so heated about it that one would think he was talking about his own children."

"Maybe he was, in a way," Kitty said slowly. "Maybe he thinks of the twins and imagines his daughter in their place. Wasn't that what convinced him to join the X-Men? Seeing a little girl Desideria had sold being tortured?"

Peter nodded.

"Anyway, you, Hank and Bobby have to say which option you prefer. We'll have a meeting tomorrow to make the final decision. You will have to be there in person."

He saw her grimace and glance at the computer screen.

"A ten minute break won't hurt, I suppose," she grumbled before looking back at him. "The meeting is first thing in the morning, right? At seven?"

"No, no," Peter shook his head. "Tomorrow is the meeting with Ms Hill, to see if Lilia can join Zelig's school. Creed asked if he could have breakfast with the girl before the meeting. Said she's really nervous – starting school is a big thing – and he wants to be with her to make sure she's nice and calm when we head out. We'll have the meeting when we come back. Probably around 10.30, give or take."

"OK, sounds good." She put down her fork and knife. "I'm full! Sitting all morning here, I don't really get that hungry, you know. I'm not spending any real energy."

"You're spending a lof ot very real brain energy," he laughed.

But she was right. Physical exercise requires one to eat more and she hadn't done any.

"Yeah, well," she adjusted her chair, "back to spending more brain energy."

Peter felt the sudden impulse and grabbed her hand even as he told himself this was not the right time.

"What?"

He looked at her beautiful eyes and breathed out a nervous half laugh.

"Uh… Do you want me to bring you a snack? In case you want to have a bite."

"Yeah, sure," her hand tried to slid through his fingers and his grip tightened instinctively. She frowned at him. "_What_?"

He couldn't hold back the need in his throat, in his heart. All that time since Remy's phone call which he'd spent mulling over his decision required him to act now rather than wait till night.

"You know I love you," he said, his voice a bit hoarse.

The surprise on her face made him hesitate.

"I…"

"I love you too, Peter," she said softly, interrupting him. "But… I'm sorry but I really need to focus on this. There's still a lot to do. A _whole_ lot."

Peter got up with an 'of course' and grabbed the tray so abruptly that the empty glass fell over and nearly ended on the floor.

"Hey," she called out to him.

He looked at her, feeling frustrated for not having been able to say anything and ashamed of… he wasn't sure why he felt that way. All he knew was that her gentle smile, softened the warring emotions inside him.

"Thanks for lunch. Don't forget my promised snacks, huh?"

"Of course not," he laughed.

By the time Peter got back to the kitchen, Isabel was clearing the table, everyone else having already left to start working on the videos.

"You should have eaten wid Kitty," Isabel said, piling up stew on a plate for him.

Yes, probably.

"Where's Lilia?" he asked just to fill the silence.

"Play wid her fader," she said curtly. "Everyone is waiting for you, so…"

That was not the nicest way of telling someone to shut up and eat, but he just nodded and focused on his food.

"You gotta be sure dat _you_ are ready fer it," Remy's voice echoed suddenly in his head. "Her bein' ready, don' mean you are ready. Do ya understand what Remy be sayin'?"

Peter stopped. Him being ready didn't mean _she_ was ready.

"Is something wrong wid de food? Isn't hot enough?"

"No, no, it's perfect."

He shook his head to get rid of that silly idea. Of course, Kitty was ready. She loved him. Had loved him for years!

He took a forkful and chewed thoughtfully. She had reacted so… But what was he expecting! She was trying to focus all her energy on that software to make analysing the data faster and more efficient. Time was ticking for the twins. Was it a big surprise if she didn't want to deal with anything that might delay finishing her work?

Bad timing, that was all. Bad timing. He wouldn't propose that night, he decided. He'd…

"Peter!" He looked at the door as Scott came in but was still fairly aware of Isabel's irritated breathing. "We've got news. Greer just sent a message saying he's available to meet us tomorrow: 4 pm at the distribution center. We're going to keep the watch just in case they try something, though. Can I count on you for the night stake out?"

"Yes, of course."

He was definitely not proposing tonight, then. It really was bad timing – everyone running about, trying to find Mystique and bring down Desideria, while he was thinking up something that would have everyone pause.

"Oh, and that final-decision meeting for tomorrow morning?" Scott added. "It's delayed till after we meet Greer. It's probably best to hear what he has to say: if he gives us the location of Mystique…"

Scott turned to leave, saying he was going to go back to the Anonymous videos.

"Jubilee's boss has caught up to the fact we're giving them the videos bit by bit rather than all at the same time and he's pressuring her. We really need to get as many checked as possible."

Peter nodded and hurried with his lunch. Talk about bad timing! Having to deal with Mystique, Desideria _and_ the Anonymous videos? For a moment he wondered if he'd find the right time to propose in the next month! But no. The moment she was done with the software, he'd do it. To underline how they were solid enough to pull through any problem together.

* * *

"I ain't got much time so listen up," Creed growled the moment Rogue picked up the phone.

His Lil' Devil was skipping ahead, looking for the ball he'd thrown away a bit more forcefully than usual, since he didn't want her to see him on the phone. She might innocently mention it in front of the guys.

"Half yer friends wanna take Desideria down at the same time as they hunt fer Owen Nills. I'm doin' my best ta make 'em ferget the blasted organisation 'cause the more stuff we're jugglin', the greatest the chances o' lettin' Nills escape. Tell the lil' clone ta phone Logan and ask how things are goin', like ya don't know nuthin' 'bout nuthin', and if he mentions it, have her insist ta focus on Nills only, got it? I gotta go. An' don't contact me unless someone's dyin'!"

"Pappa!"

Creed picked the girl up instead of taking the ball she was carrying outstretched. He held her tight for a moment, and breathed in deeply, enjoying her perfect little scent. She giggled and rubbed her little head against his neck, then balanced her body backwards to see his face.

"Wet's pway mo'e, Pappa," he felt a bit of nervousness in her little body and nodded, let her slid down to the ground, threw the ball out into the woods.

He smiled, watching her sprint. She was fast for her age. He knew: he'd analysed the speed of all the kids her age and one or two years older and younger, back in Creston. He loved comparing her to them and seeing how much smarter, stronger and faster she was. What did he care if some had learnt their Ls and Rs earlier? She was still smarter than all of them put together.

"Mo'e!" She shouted as she returned, throwing him the ball with precision.

He threw it away into the trees and she yelped with glee, ran off through the bushes like a crazzy puppy.

But then his grin died away. He hoped Rogue had taken his words to heart, that going after the organisation right now would endanger their ability to find her babies. Once she had them back in her arms, she'd be so busy that she'd forget all about the witch hunt and he'd simply have to convince the X-Men that keeping them in check was better than to crush them and risk have something worse fill their shoes.

It was all a matter of timing, though. The right time to push the X-Men off the witch hunt, the right time to nab Owen Nills and send Rogue Mystique's location… He'd have to hope she'd have enough time to get to her and kill her before the X-Men could intervene. Otherwise…

His Lil' Devil came running back. He got the ball she threw him but he kept it, and she crashed into his legs laughing delightedly. He crouched and once more embraced her.

If the X-Men stopped Rogue, he'd have to risk it and try to kill Mystique himself. Bracelets or no bracelets, lockdown or no lockdown. Mystique was a worse danger to his baby girl than even Desideria.

* * *

If you've enjoyed the chapter, please leave a review. Just let me know what you liked and disliked so I can keep improving my writing skills. Thank you.


	10. The School Interview

Disclaimer: I don't own any characters except my characters. Which are quite a few this time around. Let's try it this way: I don't own any Marvel characters that happen to show up in the upcoming chapters and which I'm sure you'll recognise without any need to name long lists. I also do not own Jenny, which Dizi created a few years back and which is a fabulous character. I strongly recommend you read her adventures with Wolverine and the X-Men.

* * *

As you already know, I mixed up the uploads. Chapter 10 happens on the day after the raid (chapter 8) and Piotr's musings about proposal timings (chapter 9). Sorry once more and thanks for all your support.

* * *

**10\. The School Interview**

Creed had slept badly, that night, confusing dreams making him wonder if it really was a good idea to let his baby girl out of the fortress of the Institute. To make it worse, come the morning he had realised he had nothing actually presentable to wear. Not a single pair of slacks – jeans only and a pair of cargo pants. Why hadn't he packed at least one suit? Fortunately, he had a couple of dress shirts.

He growled, claws sliding out in indecision. This was a private school, damnit, and those are all about status! For a moment, he wondered if Rasputin could lend him something. He was the only one in the Institute that was basically his size. But then he thought twice about it. More than being a private school, it was a private school for mutants. He was a mutant and was being backed up by the blasted X-Men. Surely genetics were more determinant than status-advertising through clothes?

As he finished getting dressed, Creed had decided to stop thinking about Harland Harper. The guy, who was now a primary school teacher in Creston, had started out as a pre-school teacher at a fancy religious place. As every small private school, it didn't have many openings, so competition was fierce. While Creed and the other guys had laughed at the stories of how parents prepared for the big event, they now made him feel woefully unprepared. There were two-year-olds that showed up for pre-school interviews sporting certificates of computer courses and other stupid stuff, for crying out loud! While his Lil' Devil was more proficient than any other kid – and most adults – at identifying animals, plants and edible wild fruit, the teachers would probably be looking for other type of accomplishments. Worse! If the place was a liberal eco-friendly, all-inclusive paragon, talks of bear hunting would definitely generate a wave of appaled shock. They'd either kick his baby girl out or try to brainwash her into a tree-hugging mind-frame! He'd freaking kill the whole lot if…

"Ready?"

Summers. Wearing a blasted suit and tie. Creed shrugged in an attempt to get rid of the tension gathering all over his shoulders.

"Uh… You do realise we're heading to a formal meeting that will decide whether your daughter is accepted into the school or not, right?"

Swallowing down the irritation, Creed glared at him.

"Are ya tellin' me that my clothes are more important than the fact her father is a freakin' mutant an' that she'll likely become one too?"

"It shows respect for the people you're going to meet," Summers crossed his arms, frowning behind his shades. "If we all show up in a suit and you show up like _that_, you're basically saying that a bunch of complete strangers care more about your daughter's acceptance in the school than you do."

Closing his fists tight, Creed had no other alternative.

"I didn't pack any suits."

"Ah…" Summers's frown melted away as he looked him up and down. "In that case… uh… I'll ask Peter to let you borrow one of his suits. You're more or less the same size. Don't go anywhere."

* * *

Creed had ended up getting to breakfast late, Isabel long gone. His baby girl was excitedly jumping around, though, and ran off to latch onto his side the moment he entered the kitchen. Jubilee had had to almost bribe her to get her to go outside and let Pappa finish getting ready.

By the time he had brushed his teeth and returned with the tie securely done, the jacket a bit too tight on the shoulders, Isabel was coming down the stairs, looking soberly attractive in the full skirt that came down to her knees, even if its navy blue colour was a bit heavy on her frame.

She smiled softly at the people in the hall and Creed's insides churned. That smile was as genuine as a fake Mona Lisa's. Why did she keep insisting she was fine when it was obvious she wasn't! She had put on an effective make-up mask, disguising her paleness with a health-mimicking blush and toning down the dark rings under her eyes. She never wore make-up. If she had decided to put the darn thing on, it was because she was well-aware she looked anything but healthy. Perhaps they'd have the chance to talk a bit more freely, though.

Creed heard the Wagners' car roll almost to the door, outside, and glanced at the watch. 8.29. Time to get moving, then. He was heading to the door when the elf bamfed into the hall.

"Ready, everyone?"

Creed focused on the man, in his suit and nervousness.

"Yeah," he said, keeping an eye on Isabel as she went outside to join Lilia. "But ya're sweatin' like it's _your_ kid on the line."

Wagner scowled briefly and hollered for Scott.

"Coming," the guy answered from afar.

Wagner's tail slashed the air.

"I'm vouching for you," he said. "Do not let me down."

Creed waved a hand dismissively. "I've told ya all a thousan' times already! I'm perfectly capable o' bein' as civil as the best."

"It's not enough!"

Creed growled lightly. If this was again because the bitchy headmistress was an empath…

"You saw the form; you saw how many questions there were about the _family_ environment. You must understand that it isn't Lilia who will make Ms Hill decide to accept her or not; it's you and Isabel. You must convince her that you are capable of providing a stable and affectionate home."

"An _affectionate_ home?" Was this for real? "Fine. What d'ya suggest I do an' say, then?"

"I'm here," Summers burst into the hall, the jacket in his hand, and stopped. "What's happening?"

"Wagner," he explained, "has extra instr…"

"Hey," Jubilee peeked in and Creed growled, his irritation mounting. "What's holding you guys? Let's get moving!"

"We'll be there in a second," Wagner lifted a hand to the girl who crossed her arms and popped a bubble gum. Creed gave him his attention. "Try to show affection towards Isabel."

That caught him unaware.

"Everyone will be able to sense how much you care about your daughter, but a block of ice would show greater care for Isabel than you do. Try to act… try to _feel_ like you care for her."

"Ya want me ta be affectionate ta Isabel?" The man's tail slashed the air and Creed couldn't help but put his guard up. "Sure. I can do that. No problem. Anythin' else?"

Wagner did not seem convinced as he headed towards the door where Jubilation Lee was grinning like a stupid Cheshire cat.

"Heard you turned out to be a married man," she snickered and he imagined grabbing her neck as he left and breaking it. He decided it was best not even to look at her as he stepped through the door. Just to avoid temptations. "So where's the ring?"

Damn! He'd forgotten about it. He quickly jogged down the entrance steps. Lilia was already inside the car but Isabel was outside, talking to the Wagner woman.

"Isabel," he called. "Did ya bring a set o' weddin' bands?"

She nodded and reached for the pocket of her skirt. He was by her side in a few strides.

"Toma," she said in her native Portuguese and he took it, quickly sliding the cold ring onto his finger.

"Uncomfortable, isn't it?" Jubilee snickered once more just behind him.

"Why would it be uncomfortable," he grumbled. "Explain it t' me, girl, will ya? Why the hell should a worthless piece o' metal bother me?"

"Because it's a sign of commitment," Summers said, taking the moment to tell everyone to get in the cars.

"That's plain stupid. I ain't got no commitment issues." If anyone had them, it was Isabel. At least once upon a time. "I can commit just fine to whatever I feels like, whenever I feels like it."

That seemed to amuse the mighty leader, who grinned darkly.

"If it seriously doesn't bother you," the girl asked sceptically. "Then how come you've never worn the wedding band before?"

He better set them straight and put an end to the dumb taunts.

"First off, because _I_ ain't married, my Kredall alias is, and I only wear the ring when I'm usin' that alias. Like today. Secondly, it's a professional hazard waitin' ta happen. Ya don't advertise yer liabilities in my line o' work. Got it?"

Which was when the real reason for their taunting hit him. It wasn't about commitment, it was about being shackled to a woman. They thought he should feel ashamed for being bound to one woman for the rest of his life. Probably even thought he should feel it weakened him, that bond. He shook his head.

"Listen: this," he showed the ringed finger. "Ain't no shackle or whatever ya think it is. This is very simply a warnin' that the woman is taken. Off the table an' off the market an' off whatever ya wanna call it. She's taken, an' she _belongs_ ta _me_. That is what the ring means. Just like the whole bein' married cover story thing. It's simply a way o' sayin' _she is mine_."

Never, not in a million years, did it mean _he_ belonged to her. The rest of the world might see it that way – hell, it was probably safer for his family's cover if they did – but he knew better. More importantly, Isabel knew better.

"Now let's get goin'."

Creed opened the door and entered Isabel's car. She had already adjusted the seat for him, so all he needed was to fasten his seatbelt and wait as Summers got in the back seat. Wagner was already starting his car. Creed glanced at Isabel. She was looking ahead, dispassionately.

"Wagner said we gotta be affectionate," he informed.

He was aware of her apprehensive gaze as he drove off after Wagner. If Summers weren't in the backseat, he'd have given her 'affectionate' right there and then, sliding a hand under the skirt that was begging to hide some action.

* * *

Creed parked the car and got out as Isabel took Lilia off her seat. He took a deep breath and put his hands in the pockets. The school was one large building covered in red brick and prolonged by an equally red brick wall over which trees and lots of folliage were visible. The windows must have tinted glass panes, as it was impossible to see anything beyond them.

He was going to have his daughter in this school one way or the other, which really just meant playing by their rules. No violence, no appalling, no nothing. And a show of affection. He could do that with his eyes closed! Back in Creston, he'd tricked an empath into thinking he was madly in love. Affection would take much less hassle.

Lilia, free from her seat, ran around the car till she was by his side, her eyes shining as she studied the building. Isabel came after her, quietly, and slid a silent hand into his arm.

"Ready?" Summers called out before leading the group towards the entrance.

Right. This was too important to mess up. With every step across the parking lot, Creed organised his psychic defences. He saw Wagner and Jenny knock on the door, Summers by their side and Jubilee a couple of steps behind holding Lilia's hand. Creed had a sudden pang of aggravation at that but quickly bottled it down. His psychic defences were perfect; but he needed to let the woman read the right emotions. The _right_ emotions.

"Good morning," a dark-skinned woman greeted the Wagners warmly and led them all to a small hall, where Wagner promptly switched off his image inducer. "I'll call Ms Hill."

He was keeping all his emotions in check to give off Nice-Guy vibes while at the same time studying the space when Lilia's hand landed on his leg. She was obviously excited but anxious, and he placed a hand on her head to calm her down a bit. Nice-Guy vibes. He didn't care what Wagner said; he was having a tour of the place and checking its security measures. You can never check security measures too often.

"Good morning," he turned to Ms Hill, Isabel still holding on to his arm. Nice-Guy vibes.

She was average height, in her fifties, dark short hair, dark piercing eyes. She also had the air of being able to do whatever it took to get what she wanted. Not a little rabbit, this one. More of a fox, keeping an eye on the prize and another on the predators stronger than her.

"Mr and Mrs Creed-Kredall," she nodded with a restrained welcoming smile. Blast the Nice-Guy vibes! All she was reading off him was probably what Wagner had said before: a block of ice. How the hell did he use to give off Nice-Guy vibes back in Creston? "This is quite the entourage you brought along."

He was actually thankful when Wagner's woman answered with a banality because the responses that came to his mind ranged from the definitely offensive to the possibly inappropriate.

The woman smiled at Lilia and Creed breathed out. The woman represented no danger, he reminded himself, even if he hadn't run a background check on her yet nor inspected her life. Her goal was likely to keep this school running the way she wanted, and that meant not endangering the children in any way.

"You must be Lilia," she said, far more pleasantly, but it grated on Creed's nerves immediately.

"Wi'ia Victo'ia de Fatima Cweed-Kwedaw," his baby girl shot with a little curtsy. "Nice to meet you, Ms Hiw."

"Would you like to play for a little while I talk to your parents, Lilia?"

He clenched his teeth hard as his baby girl glanced fleetingly at him for permission, even though she knew she was going to go on a play-date with other children while Mamma and Pappa were talking to the headmistress, and hesitated. Of course she did! She was able to sense his anger bubbling up, and the blasted empath Hill must be feeling it too.

"Go on, Victoria," he said, forcing himself to calm down. "Have fun."

The woman led them down a corridor to another room. Creed could count at least six children, from voices and scents, plus a woman supervising them. The woman came to the door to welcome the temporary addition and greet the parents. All typical, Creed knew. He looked her up and down, this Danny Varley. She was in her thirties, mousy hair and blue eyes, and came across as the shy helpless type. Probably preferred the children's company to other people's. There was something slightly off in her scent and he sniffed discreetly as Lilia peeked in then approached the other kids. Could be doing some hormone treatment, he decided. Pumping hormones into a body will mess up anyone's scent.

"Shall we go to my office now?" The question was rhetoric, as she immediately moved on.

Still feeling a slight irritation, he said it:

"Have fun," and he looked the Danny woman in the eyes, "Lilia Victoria."

Because his daughter's name was not Lilia, it was Lilia Victoria. And while more than 99% of everyone around him used only her first name, it did not sit right with him to have a blasted school erasing the second name forever. Because people – at least back in Creston – were all very much aware she was both Lilia and Victoria. He used her second name so often that _everyone_ knew. But he'd stupidly followed the general drift of using only her first name with the X-Men because they might see it as… he wasn't sure how they could pick on it, but they could say he was… he was… He didn't know! All he knew was that, after his baby girl's arrival and that blasted time in lockdown, he'd decided to be as little confrontational as possible and keeping to the more commonly used 'Lilia' had seemed the right thing to do. And now he regretted it. From now on, he'd be calling her Victoria, the way he'd always done. Anyway, all the X-Men had by now accepted he was a good father and wouldn't imagine abuse over using the girl's second name.

Creed glanced about the corridors, determined to make everyone in the school aware his girl was Lilia Victoria – and if you don't strip the Sue out of Mary Sue, why the hell with you get rid of Victoria! He noted the crafts on the walls and notice boards, arranged by age. There were classes going on in most of the classrooms. The last classroom before the headmistress's office was doing Mathematics. She stopped by the door and pointed at a large notice board with photos.

"This is our staff," Ms Hill said. "Danny is over there. Can you see her?"

She had pointed towards two photos and Creed couldn't help a chuckle. She was trying to trip them into messing up, the lil' bitch. One photo had the word 'before' and showed a young man, the other photo was captioned 'after' and showed a smiling young woman. Both were obviously the same person. But, as he had told Summers and Wagner, he wasn't the prejudiced type when it came to his victims and, the truth was, everyone around him was either a potential victim or a potential predator. This Danny had all the hallmarks of a potential victim so whoever she was or thought she was didn't bother him none.

Ms Hill's office was packed with books. It might have been cosy if it weren't so cramped.

"Please, take a seat, Mr and Mrs Kredall." She turned to the others. "Mr Summers."

"Right. I'm just here to vouch that Mr Kredall is a mutant and that Mrs Kredall is human. The child has yet to manifest any powers. Ms Lee is with the FBI Super Powered Affairs Department."

The girl showed her credentials.

"Mr Kredall is a consultant with us. His financials and professional details are classified."

"Very well," she nodded. "Thank you for your presence. If you could wait outside…"

Creed breathed out and cracked his knuckles as Wagner vouched for the Creed-Kredall family, that the school was the perfect fit for everyone's needs and that Lilia would quickly become one with the student body. Creed expected them to also take their leave then, but Ms Hill asked them to take a seat in the back of the office instead. Why… The blasted bitch! She wasn't only gauging his and Isabel's emotions, she was also gauging the Wagners' emotions, to see how they reacted to anything that was said.

Creed breathed out slowly, eagerly getting rid of the anger that had flashed at the realisation. No anger, he told himself. That was definitely the _wrong_ emotion. But since the right nice emotions couldn't be further from him, he decided that a slight dismissiveness towards the whole show might be acceptable.

Ms Hill leaned back on her chair and studied them in silence. It irritated him. He did not like being evaluated, not like this. Dismissiveness, he hammered into his brain. Then she straightened up and picked up the forms Creed had filled in.

"I see you're quite an international family. Mrs Kredall is from Portugal and you're from Spain, Mr Kredall. May I ask how you met?"

OK, so she was kicking off with the interrogation on their private lives. Time to focus and put up his best show. He cleared his throat and used his best diction.

"I'm Canadian too," he corrected her, though she obviously had read he possessed double nationality. "I was working in Canada when we met. Isabel was there on vacation. She went camping with some friends and got lost. I was doing wilderness survival practice and tracked her down, brought her to safety."

"How romantic," he almost sneered at that and then made an effort to hide any scorn. Dismissiveness. "Was it love at first sight then?"

"Not exactly," he answered, getting the woman's attention, which had been focused on Isabel. "But some things are just meant t' be."

_To_ be, he told himself off.

"I don't think I get what you mean by that," her eyes once more slid towards Isabel.

"I mean that," he had to be real careful with his words here. He was very much aware how everyone got their sensitivities in an uproar when he said Isabel belonged to him. "By the time I'd gotten her to safety, I knew that Isabel and I belonged together. She was… _is_ the right woman to be with me."

The woman's face reacted ever so slightly then. Her eyes moved swiftly towards the Wagners, in the back, and then to him and to Isabel. Great. Wagner had just had one of his holier-than-thou moments about him and Isabel. Damn the man!

"Look, I know I ain't no nice guy," he said abruptly. "I know it shows I ain't no nice guy too. But my daughter is my priority and damn if I won't act as nice as I can fer her benefit. Bottom line is, Isabel and I, we're together fer the better an' the worse."

Then it hit him: affectionate.

"I'm pretty sure _mi Nesita_ can tell you the same."

Isabel glanced suddenly at him, blinking in surprise, and didn't even have the decency to break a half smile. Why was everyone working against him? Swallow down the anger, he quickly breathed in.

"Nesita?" The Hill woman echoed.

"I mean Isabel. It's a Spanish nickname," he explained. "Ya know 'em, I mean, you know how they turn Josés to Pepes and Franciscos to Pacos, right? It goes something like Isabel, Isa, Isita, Nisita, Nesita."

He always spit it out in the same way, since Isabel was afraid someone would see the nickname for what it really was: short for Inesita, which was the only Spanish nickname he knew for Inês. After all, Creed himself didn't want people guessing what her true name was, even if he enjoyed using the nickname in public.

"I'm sorry, Ms Hill," Isabel said in a faint voice. "I have not been very well lately. But Victor is right. De first time I saw Victor, I knew he was different off any oder person I ever met. I took some time to admit, but I can't imagine my life wid no oder man. And yes, he is a little… hard, but you will never know a man dat can sacrifice all dat _he_ sacrifices for his family."

"I see." Good, then she could move on. "So… you went through a long distance relationship, didn't you? I mean, you were living at very different places at the time."

Creed curbed himself from drumming his itchy fingers or cracking the knuckles or even just having his claws slide in and out. He absolutely hated beating about the bush. No, not hate, dislike. Dismissive. Dismiss…

"Look, Ms Hill," if her game was picking at the interviewees' nervousness until they showed off their true colours, he might as well put an end to the strategy, because it would definitely work against him. "If ya wanna… if you want to know something, just ask directly. You want to know the details of how Isabel and I got together, right?"

From her expression, no, that wasn't her ultimate goal. She really just wanted to hike up their nervousness in order for any masks to fall through. Obviously, she couldn't say that, so she just smiled a polite 'if you will'.

"Like I said, we met in the woods and we spent some time together. Then she got pregnant and wanted to go back to Portugal. So we did. Got us a place in Lisbon. Course it wasn't practical for me to keep on working in Canada, so I went back to my old job in Spain. Seeing as it was still a long trip, Madrid to Lisbon, we got another house closer to the frontier right after we got married. After our Lilia Victoria was born, it became obvious that things weren't working out as they should, what with me driving over two hours back an' forth. We gave it a few months… Nesita wanted our girl baptised in Portugal, too. I don't know if you know Fatima, this huge pilgrimage center? She wanted it done there and there's a huge waiting list. Anyway, in the meantime I got us a nice place in Canada and we've been living there ever since. Till I got this job here in New York, that is. Anything else ya wanna know?"

She gave him a cold smile that pleased Creed immensely and looked at the forms.

"I see your family arrived in the US in July," she looked up at Isabel. "And yet you're only now looking for a school. How come?"

Creed had the answer on the tip of his tongue but he wasn't blind. The woman wanted Isabel talking. So he bit his tongue and drummed his fingers for a moment before catching himself. In an impulse he put a hand on the back of Isabel's chair, his thumb touching her upper arm lightly.

"I did not want dat Lilia Victoria start pre-school," Isabel said softly, a bit coldly. She really should be making more of an effort here. "In Canada, she had many friends wid who she could play and socialize, and we were very careful to guarantee dat she had many experiences of learning. I thought she could have de same here… But now I can see is not going to happen, so I finally agreed dat she should start pre-school."

The woman looked intently at both of them. Then she breathed out and nodded.

"Very well, then. What is your view on educational philosophies and methodologies?"

Huh?

"Ain't that what teachers an' school are fer?" Damn, diction! "I mean, that's what teachers learn when they… are learning to be teachers, right?"

"As a parent," she smiled a bit warmly. Was that a good or a bad sign? "You are your child's first and main educator. Do you have an opinion about what is the correct way of educating a child?"

Oh, she meant 'educate' as in raise.

"I think," Isabel miraculously said of her own initiative, "dat children learn from what dey see. If parents act in a way dat is appropriate, de children learn to act appropriate too."

The Hill woman looked at him and he decided to be absolutely truthful.

"I'm old-fashioned. First of all, kids must show respect and obedience towards their elders. Course they're also kids, so they're going to get in trouble every turn of the way and you can't go nuts over that."

"Naturally. So how do you discipline Lilia when she misbehaves?"

Creed shrugged.

"It depends. She either gets told off or grounded."

"I see. What kind of misbehaviour are we talking about?"

* * *

Creed was beyond fed up when the interview was over, but he did not forget to demand a full tour of the building and presentation of security measures. As if he, of all people, would ever forget something like that.

"Certainly," the woman had said, a bit surprised at the demand, but then the phone had rung and she'd asked them to wait outside for a moment.

"Well, you sure took your time in there," Jubilee popped a bubble gum as they came out. "How did it go?"

Creed nearly took a step back as both the girl and Summers got up and approached, the Wagners flanking him and keeping him almost trapped in the middle of the corridor. He shrugged, hoping it had gone well.

"He was everything but affectionate," Wagner grunted in a low voice before he had the chance to say anything. "Didn't do one thing, say one word that could be construed as loving towards Isabel. I don't know why I even bothered to talk to you, Creed!"

It pricked him, the slander! He'd called Isabel Nesita and he'd rubbed her upper arm. What the hell had Wagner wanted to see him do in a formal meeting? Groping and suck-facing?

Summers cursed and Jubilee went over to lean on Wagner's woman, asking about Isabel. The woman shrugged, mumbling something about distance and indifference, and glanced at Isabel. Creed didn't need to look to know that Isabel was pretending to be studying the closest notice board as a way to escape the grill.

"The good thing is I don't think she has made up her mind yet," Wagner carried on. "So there's still a chance."

Isabel was wandering down the corridor towards another notice board, this one with kids' crafts. He meant to escape the grill himself by going after her and take the chance to point out she wasn't exactly doing her best to make this happen, but Summers cut his way with some stern advice.

"I've been thinking and I know it's hard for you to disguise how much you hate everyone and that you'd rather be slitting throats," because, obviously, that's _all_ he ever thought about. Moron. "But if you focus on Lilia, there's no way Ms Hill won't feel how much you love her."

"…are meant to be," he overheard Wagner's woman say to Jubilee, who promptly laughed a sarcastic 'that's almost romantic'. His stomach was about to lurch and, yeah, he did want to slit some throats just about now.

"…should probably make a couple of comments rather than direct questions during the school tour," Wagner was telling him, and he massaged his forehead as a headache of pure frustration decided to hit him with a hammerjack. "Use it to your advantage. And for once in your life try to at least pretend you feel some affection to…"

"Fuck off," he hissed viciously, which, keeping in mind his current mood, was perfectly civil. "Ya want affectionate? I'll give ya fuckin' _affectionate_!"

He growled away from the crowd of assholes towards Isabel, who kept wandering down the corridor, slowly but purposefully.

"Hey," he pulled her hair lightly to get her attention, which had her gasping in surprise and taking a step back. "Whatch'ya doin'?"

"Watching de things dat de kids did. Is something wrong?"

"Yeah, ya ain't bein' affectionate," and he couldn't help the twin snarl and growl at the word. "Remember what I said in the car, that Wagner believed us two bein' affectionate was the key t' get Victoria in this school?"

It was such a relief to go back to that name!

"Ah," she said with a sudden blush, turning her body to face him. She bit her lower lip and embraced his waist, her thumbs hooking into his belt on the back.

"Like dis?" The scent of her growing lust almost drowned the breathless whisper.

Yeah, maybe. Though he was probably one step away of becoming too affectionate for a prude headmistress's standards. He breathed out some of the tension trying to travel down to his groin and forced himself to put an arm over her shoulders as the other hand found a lock of hair and played with it.

She chuckled lightly.

"Push hair isn't affectionate."

"_Pull_," he corrected automatically. She could never get pull and push right. He licked his lips and frowned his attention on the strand he was curling around his fingers. "Ya ain't ever complained before. In fact, I can think of over a dozen times ya said ya like it."

"Is different dis time."

What, because of the public?

"Maybe ya should tell 'em ya like it."

She laughed. A low, cheerful laugh that comforted him, even if it was too short-lived. He loved it when she acted confident and provocative, just as much as he hated the scaredy mouse she'd turned into the moment she'd arrived at the X-Men, and yet he didn't want a single person in New York to witness her true character. If anyone as much as dreamed what a devil she was – smart, keeping tabs on everyone and their dirt, an expert at making people think what she wanted them to think… The X-Men would never trust her, he was sure, and would treat her accordingly.

"Yes. Listen, everyone, I _love_ when Victor pulls my hair. Sounds _very_ nice, hun?"

He frowned.

"Ya make it sound like it's a bad thing."

Her smile faded slowly and she sighed. He should kiss her before th… That was it!

"Hey, pay attention. I'm gonna kiss ya the moment I sense the woman's comin' out o' the office. Play along."

"Just to seem affectionate?" She sneered, though he couldn't see why.

"Two birds with one stone," he pointed out. "I didn't think ya'd be willin' ta waste opportunities."

She shook her head, avoiding his eyes, and leaned her head on his chest.

"How many hours did ya sleep tonight?"

She breathed out, obviously aggravated. Creed took a step sideways and leaned onto the wall, getting a hold of her chin to make her look up. If this was going to look natural, they better be in position.

"Ya keep sayin' everythin's fine. I ain't blind, ya know?"

She clenched her teeth. Damn the woman's stubbornness.

"Say somethin'," he grunted. "It don't look natural if ya just stand there glarin' at me."

"Fine. You want insults to accompany de glare?"

He grinned. He missed her teasing vein.

"It depends. Ya want me ta rip yer panties off?"

Her gaze turned a different type of provocative.

"Panties? What panties?"

That was a low jab, in the current circumstances. Damn the headmistress! He leaned down to kiss his woman and she responded so eagerly he had trouble keeping a hand from grabbing her ass, pulling her up. Instead he slid a hand to the small of her back and pushed her against him as the other got a tight hold of her hair. The woman, however, didn't have to care about appearances as his back was against the wall and no one was aware of the hand that had let go of his belt and was now shamelessly groping his ass as her throat choked out these hungry moans that were spurring him over the… throat clearing. He broke off and took a deep breath. Throat clearing. Yeah, the headmistress was out and both Summers and Wagner were clearing their throats ostensibly loud. Right.

"Cut it out," he growled, grabbing the woman's wrist to put an end to the devilish groping on his ass. "Ya wanna get fucked in public?"

He was still trying to clear his head from the lust boiling in his blood when they got to the group, an arm firmly over the woman's shoulders keeping her glued to his side. For someone who had her scent nearly drowned under sex pheromones, Isabel had her breathing very well controlled.

"Shall we start the tour?"

He couldn't force a grin to suit the situation so he just nodded. Added a "Nesita was wonderin' just now if ya've ever had trouble 'bout… uh… anti-mutant… uh… stuff. Protests. Threats."

"No," the woman said, leading them down the corridor. "We've never had any type of threats. We keep our mutant associations strictly within these walls for the safety of the children."

* * *

It took less than an hour, the tour. Creed was aware the woman had felt pestered with all his questions but he couldn't care less. There were at least half a dozen scenarios she had never even considered when setting up the school's security. He didn't care how unlikely it was for someone to climb the wall surrounding the school playground or to fly a camera-equipped drone over it. Unlikely was not impossible and it only took one glance towards the playground at recess time for everyone to know there was a visibly mutant kid there. If anyone as much as dreamt that, the school would become a magnet for all sorts of attacks.

Neverthless, the security flaws weren't an accident waiting to happen at any moment. It was safe for his Lil' Devil to attend. He looked at the girl, skipping happily next to Jenny, telling her about Kim, who was Zelig's friend too, and that Kim had said she could go to her house and play.

Arm still around Isabel's shoulders, he let his thumb pet her arm. Summers could scream and kick all he wanted, but his girl was not going to anyone's house without him first running proper background checks and a couple of surveillance stints. It was the most basic of precautions. I mean, accidents happen even in the tightest, most careful protection schemes but that is never an excuse to facilitate with sloppy protective measures.

"Creed?"

He stopped and looked back. Wagner and Summers had fallen behind and were signalling him to approach. He wasn't sure why they were scowling, though, since Ms. Hill had mentioned that she didn't see impediments. True, she hadn't right out said the girl had been accepted, but 'I need to have a word with the teachers first' sounded pretty much like 'yes' to him. Isabel noticed it too, obviously.

"I go put Lilia in de car," she said, but he still didn't release her shoulders immediately. When he did, he let his hand slide down her arm, brush her back.

"Now what?" He groaned, getting closer to the men.

"First of all, keep in mind you still have to be careful," Wagner said. "Ms Hill is not at all confident about this. She told me that there was something wrong with you and Isabel. Said she had the impression you were undergoing a break-up."

Creed snorted. Well, and weren't they? X-Men imposed break-up. Although, he could use that in his favour. If he put it in the right way…

"She said that, if she hadn't seen you two kissing so passionately, she'd have been certain to be facing a couple on their way into a divorce. I ended up revealing that Isabel was attacked recently and that you were both nervous about the security, which is no lie. She seemed to think that justified the cold readings she got from the two of you, but, like I said, you still have to be careful."

He shrugged, eager to give his idea a try.

"Don't tell _me_ ta be careful, boy." He turned to Summers. "If ya really want this ta work, there's gotta be some changes."

"What do you mean?"

"Isabel and I should be sleepin' together," he saw the shock flushing the guy's face and quickly corrected himself to something that implied less abuse. "I mean, spendin' the night in the same room."

"No," the guy said flatly.

"Lilia is gonna end up sayin' we're basically livin' apart in the same house," he insisted, thinking he should have started with that point. "Sooner or later, it's gonna happen. If ya're all so worried 'bout Ms Hill's opinion o' me, don't ya think _that_ is gonna make her think twice 'bout havin' Lilia Victoria here?"

"After what you did today, taking out your frustration on Isabel like that, do you honestly believe I'm going to let you be anywhere near her?"

Huh? What the hell was he talking about? His confusion must have shown because the guy got all scandalised.

"I don't believe this! You pulled her hair so hard she took a step back. Does that ring any bells?"

What? Damn, he'd gotten it all wrong.

"I was just teasin' her," he explained. "It didn't hurt none."

"She took a step back, Creed!"

"_Because_ she was out o' balance when I did it!"

"Forget it," and he moved on. "Just focus on the kid. She's the only person you care about besides yourself so just… think about her and forget the rest."

* * *

If you've enjoyed the chapter, please leave a review. Just let me know what you liked and disliked so I can keep improving my writing skills. Thank you.


	11. Dealing with the Devil

Disclaimer: I don't own any characters except my characters. Which are quite a few this time around. Let's try it this way: I don't own any Marvel characters that happen to show up in the upcoming chapters and which I'm sure you'll recognise without any need to name long lists. I also do not own Jenny, which Dizi created a few years back and which is a fabulous character. I strongly recommend you read her adventures with Wolverine and the X-Men.

* * *

**11\. Dealing with the Devil**

Cyclops stepped into the distribution center behind Jubilee. He'd chosen Tigard and Wolverine to accompany them, no one else. However, both Cannonball, Bishop and Beast were in close proximity. One thing Cyclops hadn't forgotten was that this was the organisation that possessed bullets capable of killing people with strong healing factors. If it depended on him, Beast would always be on stand-by, ready for any eventuality.

"Agent Lee," the manager greeted them. Well, greeted Jubilee, since he ignored the X-Men. "If you'll follow me."

He led them to a different office which turned out to be smaller than the manager's. He let them in without a word then left.

The man at the desk didn't bother to get up. He simply waved a hand towards the two chairs in front of him. As Jubilee and Cylops sat down, he took in the man's wavy mousy hair and his grayish eyes. He was lean and tall and there was a bit of arrogance in his voice when he apologised for the late meeting.

"I've just arrived in New York," he added as Tigard took his position behind Cyclops's chair and Wolverine behind Jubilee's.

Both men stood in a ready to act pose, as if they were bodyguards expecting an attack at any time.

"I'm afraid I have a very busy schedule and I will need to leave as soon as possible. As such, let's cut to the chase. Ms Lee, we understand FBI's Supper Powered Affairs Department has pretty much lost interest in recovering the kidnapped twins. There is even less interest within the entire FBI to investigate these alleged theft charges you mentioned since one of our affiliate programs provides the Bureau, as well as other governmental agencies, with accurate information that is crucial to the success of several national and federal on-going and future operations."

OK, Cyclops thought, the Desideria would have to be an X-Ops operation from now. It was actually good to have the guy open the game, or the X-Men might have unwittingly passed on information that would have helped the organisation to protect itself.

"I don't need the SPAD to be interested in recovering the twins, Mr Greer," Jubilee snorted. "All I have to do is drop a word with the Avengers, every former X-Men member, and every ally of the X-Men… and that means both groups and individuals covering the globe from Canada and the US, to Europe and Asia. Come to think of it, if I mention you're kidnapping and auctioning off mutants and former mutants, I'll even get a handful of X-enemies to gang-up against you! You know, those pesky pro-mutant kill-off-normals groups. They love any excuse to create mayhem."

Greer sat back and popped his knuckles.

"So," Jubilee carry on, "let's proceed to the next point of the agenda, shall we? Where are the children?"

The man breathed out and shook his head.

"Their last known location was the airport of Madrid, where they were delivered to Ms Chantal Moreau."

"Mystique," Jubilee cut in. "You know perfectly well who dear Chantal really is."

He smirked and shook his head.

"We were accosted with a business proposition by Ms Chantal Moreau. I was very surprised to be informed we were actually dealing with Ms Darkholme."

"Uh-huh," Jubilee sneered.

"Unfortunately, our business association ceased the moment the children were delivered, so…" He opened a drawer and got a folder. "In a token of our interest in assisting the safe recovery of the children, we are willing to share all we know concerning the person you're looking for."

Jubilee got up to get the folder from his hands. She went through it quickly then gave it to Cyclops. It had two pages with information on the identity of Chantal Moreau, and tens more about Mystique.

"Since you now know all that we know concerning this topic," Greer carried on as Jubilee sat down. "You have no reason to pursue a harrassment strategy towards us. Such strategies tend to destroy careers, Ms Lee."

The man turned to him.

"Mr Cyclops, if I may address you as such, being older and more experient, you will surely agree that harrassing us will be quite detrimental to Ms Lee's future and will, naturally, advise her against it. Because we are all aware she is expected to have a long, bright future ahead of SPAD, as it evolves and becomes a fundamental department within the Bureau. It would be disastrous to see such hopes cut short. Who knows if it wouldn't even threaten the existence of SPAD! There are so many people who have yet to understand the importance of its work. Unlike you, Mr Cyclops, and your associates. _You_ understand how crucial it is to have a national wide network controlling anti-mutant associations. How else would you protect your people from Purity Gangs? How else would you investigate the unhealthy practice of sterilising young men and women who are at risk of conceiving mutant children?"

What? For a moment, Cyclops forgot the veiled threat. This was news to him and alarming, too. The X-Men had been focused on physical attacks on mutants and former mutants over the years. Sure, they had also dealt with supposed cures, but those had always been advertised, so it had been easy to get to whoever was behind them. But if there was an underground plot to prevent mutants to come into existance through sterilisation… They needed to find out who was behind it as soon as possible!

"That's right. And how else would we save people from being kidnapped and auctioned to the highest bidder?" Jubilee said sharply. "Let's really cut to the chase, Mr Greer. Here's the deal: no more people get kidnapped. Not mutants, not former mutants, not normals. Not a single person. You started out as thieves, carry on as such. I as much as dream you're back to kidnapping and selling people, and I'll unleash any and every group I can sic on you. If SPAD is the price to pay, so be it. We managed before, we'd manage again. Oh, and let's not forget I'm not alone. If I am not able to unleash hell on you people…"

Jubilee leaned back on the chair and opened her arms.

"There'll be many more ready to do so. Have we got a deal?"

"Living beings were never really a part of our expansion plans," he got up and stretched out a hand towards Jubilee. "But you should look into some parties who do kidnap people based on their genetic profile. They mostly see themselves as scientific in nature, so I hear."

Jubilee hesitated before getting up and shaking his hand. Greer turned to Cyclops, who also shook his hand.

"Let me warn you," Cyclops said, not letting go of his hand. "That the parents are not interested in deals and are AWOL. With their powers and shady connections… Well, I'd say it's in your best interest that the children are found safe and sound as soon as possible. Powerful parents hell-bent on revenge tend to be impossible to control, after all, and it would be tragic if a failed 'expansion plan' were to cause crippling damage to your organisation."

* * *

Creed couldn't have been more pleased with how the meeting had gone down. Now he only had to make sure he got the information from Owen Nills and sent it to Rogue before the X-Men could get to Mystique. Only!

As if it were that simple.

He had tuned out on their return to the Institute, after having collected McCoy from his observation post. The other two guys had stayed behind to see if they could trail Greer, not the least happy to hear they had to keep an extremely low profile. There really wasn't anything worth hearing in the car, anyway. The girl was just venting her disgust over having to make deals with the devil, while grumbling whether that piece of information about sterilisations was fake news to stear them into a different direction because, obviously, he'd been lying when he'd said they had no more information on Mystique.

Creed himself wasn't exactly sure why they hadn't outed _all_ the info they had on Raven, whatever that 'all' meant. It seemed counter-intuitive to make the crazed parents' lives harder when they could derail whatever deals had been made. When working for Desideria, a merc usually had no idea who the client was unless one was talking security ops or personally collected trophies. Since none of Creed's aliases did security – too many chances of things going wrong or simply getting prolonged – the only times he'd met clients had been on hunting expeditions, and those clients had mostly been using aliases as well as company-provided image inducers in order to protect their identities, even if they didn't always took advantage of the offer. Desideria was big on that, protecting the clients' identities. But it was still a dumb move to protect a very well-known terrorist when you had two super-powered, super well-connected people aiming for your throat. Plain dumb!

A thought had him frowning. Could Nills have kept stuff to himself? Better yet, how had Gambit found out that the nervous little man knew where Mystique was? How accurate was that intel? Because, yes, Greer had lied. Creed had smelled the lie on him as he had claimed he was sharing all they knew. But that didn't mean they actually knew the woman's location.

There! Such a good mood he'd been in, and now that little doubt ruined it all!

If it turned out Nills didn't know where she was, or that she had moved elsewhere in the meantime… He needed to have a word with Rogue. The clone was a mean little feral by all accounts, born and raised to kill without a second thought. If Rogue could get the girl to become invested in killing Raven, perhaps Creed could relax a bit. Because if Rogue ended up not killing her, for one reason or the other, then Creed would have to forget about his plans to get his family back to Canada. His soon-to-be-thought-of plans, that is. He'd simply have to… Damn, he'd have to escape the X-Men while leaving his woman and baby girl behind in order to do the deed himself. That would mess up everything!

Better not to sweat it out before time, he shook his head as Jubilee stopped her FBI SUV and they got out. Rogue might still manage to do it.

"I can't stick around for the meeting," she explained. "My guys are covering up for me, but I've got to join them going through the videos. We're all stuck working late today."

That was a good excuse.

"Hey, Summers," he called as soon as she drove off. "Do I really gotta be in that meetin'? I'm gonna have ta spend a few minutes with my Lil' Devil, but then I was thinkin' I could jump right into those damned videos and, I don't know, keep at it till ten or eleven. Ya know, ta make up fer all the time we wasted at school this mornin'."

Making himself look like a stellar, eager to work little soldier might help him stretch those few minutes into half an hour. The guy sighed then shrugged a 'fine'. Perfect! He followed both men in as they headed to the kitchen. It was nearly five, so Isabel should be preparing dinner. With the spike in work, she had ended up cooking all the meals which was great! He had sorely missed her recipes, even if she hadn't yet made any of her specials.

Even before he got there, though, his enthusiasm died. While Isabel's scent was everywhere in the kitchen, she wasn't there, and the one cooking was Wagner's wife. While her cooking wasn't bad – way better than ordering – it still annoyed him.

"Where's Lilia?" Summers asked.

Creed was dying to ask where _Isabel_ was, but he knew better than to acknowledge Jenny Wagner's very existance.

"She's playing with Zelig and Wolfy, in the dog pen outside. Kurt's with them."

Wagner? Not Isabel?

Summers started heading out but Creed hesitated in following him. He almost asked the woman about Isabel, but he'd been clearly instructed to keep away from Wagner's family as much as possible, not to mention the woman acted nervous around him. His only option was to tell Summers or Logan to ask her about Isabel, which, seeing as he did his very best to act civil around Lilia's current best friend's mum, was not the most polite thing to do. Even he knew that!

"Uh… Scott?" The guy stopped with his hand on the door handle when the woman spoke. "Zora Gibson, the school receptionist, called while you were out. They've accepted Lilia so she wanted to set a meeting with the kindergarten teacher tomorrow, at 2.30. The idea is for Lilia to get to know the teacher and the classroom before she joins the group on Monday."

Great! One less worry for him.

"And then, of course, there's the list of material. Isabel had mentioned she'd have to go shopping for school material but she, uh…" The woman glanced Creed's way fleetingly. "She doesn't want to go anywhere alone."

"No, of course not," the guy grumbled. "It's no problem. Meeting, then shopping. Anything else?"

Like mentioning where Isabel was right now? No? No.

"It's like we have nothing else to keep us busy," Summers kept on grumbling as he left the kitchen. "Creed, hurry up!"

* * *

Hank had been by the kitchen's doorway, analysing Victor Creed's behavior. He'd become… nervous wasn't the most accurate term, but he'd been certainly nonplussed at realising Isabel wasn't in the kitchen. As usual, he had refrained from making eye contact with Jenny, but his expression of impatience had told Hank he'd been anxious to say something. Not even the good news of his daughter's acceptance into school had undone the anxiety.

He waited a full minute after Logan closed the back door before asking Jenny about Isabel's whereabouts.

"I don't know," she shrugged, putting a hand on her hip. "When I came in, she asked if I could keep an eye on the children because she had a headache and wanted to lie down a bit. But when I went to her room to tell her about the school call, she wasn't there. I looked everywhere but I simply couldn't find her. That was two hours ago and… still nothing!"

Odd.

"Has she made any references to you concerning her request to Scott?"

Jenny frowned and shook her head in a negative.

"She attempted to convince him that Lilia should be sleeping on her own and, once she was aware of the security issues that forbid such a reality, that she should be sharing the room with the father, not her."

Jenny crossed her arms, a look of mild shock on her features.

"No, she didn't tell me."

"It is my belief that she is suffering psychologically as a sequel of her abduction, ten days ago, and that her request is part of her attempt to overcome said suffering on her own."

Jenny sighed and turned back to the potatoes on the counter.

"I've told her I am here for her. That I'll listen to whatever she wants to talk about, no judgement, but…"

Jenny of all people knew what it was like to deal with traumatic experiences and how important it was to have a network of friends offering support in order to fully overcome said traumas.

"She is _so_ withdrawn!"

Yes, that didn't surprise him. Having lived years under Creed's imposing control, she must feel unable to trust anyone for fear of inciting his anger. It was likely he had indoctrinated her to bow down to his every wish as a way to have a painless existence, while at the same time teaching her to see any act of jealousy and control as a sign of protectiveness to be desired. His aggressive prohibition to leave the grounds after her rescue had clearly shown how he used her fears as a tool to control her behavior.

"Jenny, may I expect you to assist my endeavours to help Isabel?"

"To do what?" She frowned suspiciously.

"I am still considering the best approach, but my aim is to help her achieve a sense of self-reliance and self-respect that will, in time, weaken her emotional dependence on Creed." He breathed out, frustrated. "I'm not sure if you're aware, but Isabel's refusal to leave the grounds without Creed… he forbade her of doing so on the night we rescued her."

Jenny breathed out with surprising annoyance.

"On my word of honor," she grumbled angrily, looking to the side.

"Is there something you'd like to share?" Hank asked.

"Yes," she snapped, turning her back on him and getting busy with the potatoes on the counter once again. "But I gave my word of honor I wouldn't say a word. Something I sometimes regret having done!"

"In relation to… ?" Hank probed, even if he knew she would not break her work.

Letting out a sigh, she stopped peeling the potatoes and stood still for a long minute.

"Look, this was nothing anyone told me, ok? But… have you noticed how Creed is very gentle with Lilia? And then there was the meeting, this morning. He was… borderline rude at a certain point, ok, but he was obviously under stress and he was very honest, saying he was no nice guy and that anything nice he did was for his daughter's sake. Keeping that in mind, could it be – I'm not saying anything here, just throwing ideas up in the air – but could it be…"

She clicked her tongue a couple of times, irritated.

"Look, I'm simply going over his behavior, ok? He is gentle with Lilia, and he was even fair to my son while going against his daughter's wishes, back at the barbecue. Jubilee's boyfriend found him about as easy to get along as Logan! A bit defensive in relation to his daughter, but nothing that merited being called a jerk. Obviously, he is a murderer and he tried to kill you all a bunch of times and you are – rightly so, in my opinion – but you are constantly breathing down his neck. You know, piling up stress. Could it be – and, again, this has nothing to do with what Isabel may or may not have told me – but could it be that he is a little less… violent towards Isabel than we all think?"

Hank took a step back. What had Isabel confided to merit this roundabout exposition?

"And mind you," she turned around, knife in hand, "that I'm not in the least convinced he doesn't act like a jerk towards Isabel in their normal life. I won't even go as far as to say he can't have some abusive behavior that Isabel simply discounts as being part of his charming self. But maybe, just maybe, he isn't physically violent."

Hank stood there for a moment, digesting the information. Jenny had been near Creed… twice, if he was not mistaken. Three times, taking into account the school meeting that morning. It was simply impossible that she would analyse his behavior and come to those particular conclusions if Isabel had not said something to the same effect.

"Discarding physical violence does not discard psychological violence," he said carefully. "Some instances of which may not be promptly recognised by their victims."

Jenny nodded sideways in a 'perhaps' way.

"I wouldn't know," she said. "I would have to… I mean, _we_ would have to see them together. Acting naturally. But, obviously, we will never see them act naturally with each other when there are people around, will we? We'd have to… I don't know, get them together and spy on them. Which I do think is the wrong thing to do even if it might be the only way to find out the truth. Maybe he is a gentle, caring man to her, or maybe he really is a brute who brainwashed her. Even if she swears the former is true, will anyone who knows Sabretooth ever believe her word?"

Jenny went back to the potatoes and Hank pondered the situation for a long moment.

"Katherine – and myself, to be fair – we are of the opinion Isabel is emotionally dependent on him. Do you partake of that view?"

She shrugged.

"Maybe, maybe not. If I was forced to spend three months away from the man I love, I might jump at every little opportunity to be with him as if he was the only thing I had eyes for. If we keep in mind that she lost her baby… _their_ baby and that she was then kidnapped and tortured, I think it's only natural that she may be a bit desperate for spending some alone time with him. In her place, I'd probably be too."

Yes, it was true. Under the conditions Jenny had described, even an emotionally independent woman might show signs that could easily be mistaken for emotional dependence. He should find a way of assessing… But no. Hank shook his head as he recalled Creed back at the infirmary, growling and snarling the entire time. Yes, most of that fury had been brought on by the state they'd found Isabel in, which did merit a degree of anger, but he had seemed equally ready to expand his emotions to Isabel herself.

"Look, Hank, you all know I don't like that man being here, but he has shown he is a dedicated father and… very honestly, maybe you should give them some private time together. Isabel looks like she hasn't had a good night sleep since the attack and if being alone with him helps, then so be it."

"Are ya listenin' t'me?" Creed's vicious growl echoed in Hank's memory. "I don't want ya goin' nowhere without me, ya understand?"

Hank shook his head with disgust at the very thought.

"No, I'm sorry. I've considered enough deals with the devil for one day, Jenny. I won't even contemplate such a proposition! If you'll excuse me, I will attempt to locate Isabel and give her the news concerning the school."

Jenny shrugged and sighed.

"Don't forget to mention that Scott gave the okay for Creed to go shopping with her."

Hank stopped at the doorstep.

"Jenny, I don't know what Isabel shared with you, but you mustn't forget that both Logan and I can smell how often she feels afraid around him."

"Oh, yeah? Well, she was very offended when…" Jenny stopped herself with a grimace. "I gave her my word of honor, Hank. Why don't you just ask her directly? Maybe she'll come to her senses and be honest with you."

For that she'd have to trust him. Hank didn't mention that Isabel had told him the wounds on her wrists didn't require his attention anymore and which, therefore, she saw no more reasons for further appointments. Not using those exact words. In reality, though, they simply didn't require bandages, as they were far from being fully healed.

As he started up the stairs, though, he saw her coming down. Both her countenance and demeanor were of grim determination and he once more swore to himself he'd find a way to get around her defenses and help her.

"Isabel," he called out with relatively fake mirth, "Jenny has been looking for you! Good news: Ms Hill has accepted to enrol Lilia. You'll have a meeting with the teacher tomorrow so Lilia can become acquainted with her new environs, and you shall then proceed straight into a supply shopping spree. Creed will, naturally, be present throughout."

Her smile seemed genuine for a moment, but then it became pained – if Hank was not fabricating impressions. He recalled Jenny's conviction that Isabel needed to spend time with the man she, unfortunately, had fallen in love with. Hank would never allow for private time between the two, not when the few interactions he had witnessed had been so cold and imposing on Creed's part, if not aggressive, but if there was someone supervising their encounters…

"Creed is currently with Lilia, by the dog kennel, so perhaps you may wish to join them."

Anxiety enveloped her as she nodded stiffly and hurried down the steps. Hank followed her slowly, considering how he could nudge her out of that anxious state.

* * *

If you've enjoyed the chapter, please leave a review. Just let me know what you liked and disliked so I can keep improving my writing skills. Thank you.


	12. Mountain Lakes

Disclaimer: I don't own any characters except my characters. Which are quite a few this time around. Let's try it this way: I don't own any Marvel characters that happen to show up in the upcoming chapters and which I'm sure you'll recognise without any need to name long lists. I also do not own Jenny, which Dizi created a few years back and which is a fabulous character. I strongly recommend you read her adventures with Wolverine and the X-Men.

* * *

As everyone knows, RL gets in the way and there isn't much to say about it, so I won't bother anyone with details.

I am slowing down the frequency of my updates during, at least, the first half of 2020. I was (and still am) under a lot of pressure on too many fronts and, while I love writing and sharing ideas with you, my readers, I must be careful to not get overloaded by my schedules. This means I'll be uploading only one story at a time and only once a month. Once we get to August, I'll see if I can improve into twice a month updates.

I long to return to weekly updates, but I won't make the same mistake twice. Slow but sure is better than months-long hiccups. For now, you'll get one chapter on the first day of each month.

Thank you for accompanying me on this journey. Your readership means a lot to me.

Happy and successful 2020!

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**12\. Mountain Lakes**

When the phone rang, it was past three in the morning, but Rogue grabbed it immediately.

"Yes?"

"I ain't got much time."

He never did, she scoffed.

"What the hell d'ya want," he growled, as his sensitive hearing had obviously caught her annoyance. "There's always someone breathin' down my neck. I can only call ya in between calls ta my girl so no one gets suspicious, an' that only happens when there's a mission and when I call her ta say g'night. Or do ya want me ta get caught?"

"Just spit it out, Creed!"

"We had a meetin' with Greer today. He acted all willin' ta help but the info he gave us is nuthin' new. He also spelled out how he can put an end ta Jubilee's career an' to SPAD, not ta mention he implied he could make life pretty hard fer the Academy ta keep on workin'."

What? He couldn't! She got off the bed and started pacing the hotel room.

"Jubilee told 'im that if he moved a finger 'gainst the Academy, he'd sic every former X-Men on them, not ta mention the Avengers and every X-ally all over the world. Even murderin' pro-mutant groups that the X-Men fight. She said she'd do the same if they ever dealt wi' people again, ya know, kidnappin' an' sellin', and he toed the line. So, at least yer Academy's safe an' the kidnappings are a thing o' the past."

She was still having trouble digesting that the Academy's existence had been threatened! The moment she had her children back, she was tearing the entire group apart, bit by bit.

"He didn't mention Nills, and we didn't either. We didn't wanna risk 'em realisin' we're after 'im. They could'ave killed 'im just ta make sure there ain't no lose ends."

That was good thinking.

"Are there any leads on him?" She asked.

"Not yet. Pryde is workin' day an' night ta process all the info we got from the French cell an' says we should'ave somethin' ta go on by the weekend. How's it goin' on yer side? Where are ya?"

Rogue sat down on the bed, said they'd just gotten to Bregenz.

"We're gonna start canvassin' the lake tomorrow, but we probably ain't gonna spend too much time on it. This ain't no tourist trap."

"Yeah," he said. "But don't be sloppy 'bout it. I been thinkin' and it don't really have ta be a tourism hotspot ta be considered a vacation spot, ya know? Check if there's places ya can rent fer locals who wanna go on vacation to less touristy places. Like a retreat or somethin'."

Right. She had thought of vacationing as meaning busy places but the man was talking sense.

"And where are ya headin' afterwards?"

"Swiss lakes," she said. "Then Italian lakes an' down t' the French Coast."

"With any luck," he breathed out forcefully, "ya'll come across 'em 'fore we find Nills. How's the lil' clone, by the way? Did ya tell 'er 'bout yer plans fer Mystique?"

Rogue nodded and looked up to see Laura watching her intently.

"Yes," Rogue said slowly. "Laura agrees that Mystique will be a danger for as long as she breathes."

There was a moment of silence on the line.

"Don't worry, sugah," she said coldly. "Laura an' me, we'll put an end ta her once an' fer all."

She hung up before he did.

"The big heads have decided ta threaten the Academy ta keep the X-Men in their place," she told Laura.

"Yes, I heard," the girl responded. "But I don't believe they'll make such a drastic move when it means attracting too much attention to their activities. They'll consider it as last resort only."

Rogue nodded. It was simply an effective way of tying the X-Men's hands.

"It does not matter," Laura lay down again. "We will continue our search, and the X-Men will continue searching for Owen Nills. If he cannot give an accurate location when found, then we'll look for Greer."

Rogue lay down, too, toyed with the little hollow hearts. She wondered if they shouldn't look for Nills themselves, instead of relying on the X-Men and hoping to get to Mystique before they could. But how could they find the man? Creed was the only one who could identify him – by scent on top of it – and, anyway, they'd end up crossing paths with the X-Men. No, she'd have to trust Creed would maneuver the situation in order to give her the information and to delay the team.

She chuckled darkly as the thought hit her: she trusted Creed! Creed of all people in the world! She didn't trust any X-Men or even Remy, but she trusted a psycopathic murderer.

The world was upside down, wasn't it?

Unable to sleep, Rogue sat up. She hadn't had more outbursts since Afghanistan. Whenever possible, she and Laura sparred, but…

She embraced her legs and considered whether she'd let go of her powers again. On the one hand, it meant she'd be powerless and impotent, once more unable to protect her babies. On the other hand, she'd be a danger and she could never again touch her precious babies skin to skin. Was that the price to be able to protect them, never to touch them again?

She shook her head. Children need a mother's touch. Even if she might be ready to pay that price, she had no right to impose it on her children.

But that meant she'd once more be powerless and dependent on others, the way she'd been on Remy for the last couple of years. And look how that had turned out!

Frustrated, she got up.

"Ah'm gonna go out an' fly over the area," she told Laura.

Ah, how she'd missed the ability to fly! Even though she had used that power in the last days, it still felt refreshing. For a few moments, she simply let herself go, soaring high up before plunging down. It gave her a thrill and she almost let out a yell of pure delight at the feeling.

And then she felt the guilt crush her: how could she be out here enjoying herself when her children were in the hands of Mystique? Had she lost her mind!

Shaking her head, she once more soared high. Despite the dark night, there were plenty of lit roads and the houses weren't invisible against the land. That gave her an idea! Turning around, she sped back into their hotel room, startling Laura, who slid out her claws immediately.

"Ah got the feelin' we'll go over the place faster at night," Rogue said, excited with the thought, "With yer night vision and yer nose, all Ah gotta do is fly ya over every house in the area. We'll sleep durin' the day."

Laura nodded and quickly put on a pair of pants.

"Let's go."

* * *

I know, it was another short chapter. I'm sorry, but Gambit and Rogue really don't have much to do. I mean, they've got lots to do with all the searching and travelling, but none of it is exciting enough to write or read about.

* * *

If you've enjoyed the chapter, please leave a review. Just let me know what you liked and disliked so I can keep improving my writing skills. Thank you.


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